DANTE'S 
GARDEN 

BY  £^€6& 
ROSEMARY 
A.  GOT 


f  LIBRARY  ^ 

imiVERSITY  OP 

CALIFORNIA 


?x/     ^ 


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in  2007  with  funding  from 

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DANTE'S     GARDEN 


'S1PINSE   GIOTTO    IN    KIGURA    UI    DANTE 


DANTE'S    GARDEN 

WITH 

LEGENDS  OF  THE  FLOWERS 


BY 

ROSEMARY  A.  COTES 


'  Let  thy  upsoaring  vision  range  at  large 
This  garden  through :  for  so  by  ray  divine 
Kindled,  thy  ken  a  higher  flight  shall  mount." 

CARY. 

"Vola  con  gli  occhi  per  questo  giardino: 
Che  veder  lui  t'acconcera  lo  sguardo 
Piu  al  montar  per  lo  raggio  divino." 

Par.  xxxi.  97. 


KNIGHT    &    MILLET 
BOSTON 


TO 
MY    MOTHER 

THIS  LITTLE   BOOK   IS    DEDICATED 
WITH   LOVE 


The  English  translations  of  the  Divina  Commedia 
used  in  this  little  collection  of  Hower-legends  are 
taken  from  Gary's  Vision  of  Dante. 

The  author  also  wishes  to  express  her  indebted- 
ness to  Mr.  Richard  Folkard's  book  on  Plant  Lore, 
Legend  and  Lyric,  from  which  she  has  derived 
much  valuable  help,  and  her  gratitude  to  Mr. 
Paget  Toynbee  for  kindly  consenting  to  contribute 
a  prefatory  note. 

The  frontispiece  is  due  to  the  courtesy  of 
Messrs.  Alinari  of  Florence,  by  whose  kind 
permission  their  photograph  of  Giotto's  portrait 
of  Dante  has  been  reproduced. 


PREFATORY    NOTE 

IN  this  little  volume  a  collection  has  been 
made  of  some  of  the  passages  in  the 
Divina  Commedia  which  give  evidence  of  Dante's 
love  for  flowers,  and  trees,  and  all  the  details  of 
plant-life.  Dante  was  a  close  observer  of  Nature, 
and  many  of  the  most  beautiful  similes  in  his 
poem  are  drawn  from  his  observations  of  the 
familiar  phenomena  of  the  garden  and  of  the 
countryside.  Even  the  gloom  of  his  Hell  is 
relieved  by  such  pictures  as  those  of  the  drooping 
flowers  revived  after  a  frost  by  the  warmth  of  the 
sun  (ii.  127-9), — the  slowly  falling  leaves  and 
"  bare  ruined  choirs  "  of  autumn  (iii.  112-14), — the 
gale  crashing  through  the  woods  and  rending  the 
branches  (ix.  67-70), — the  pastures  covered  with 
the  thick  hoar-frost  (xxiv.  1-9), — the  tenacious 
grasp  of  the  ivy  on  the  tree-trunk  (xxv.  58-9), — 
while  the  descriptions  in  the  Purgatory  of  the 
Terrestrial  Paradise,  with  its  wealth  of  flowers,  and 
foliage,  and  grassy  river-banks,  are  not  surpassed 
for  brilliancy  of  colouring  even  by  the  gorgeous 
flower-gardens  with  which  we  are  familiar  in  the 
frescoes  of  Fra  Angelico  and  of  Benozzo  Gozzoli. 
7 


PREFATORY   NOTE 

A  special  interest  is  added  to  the  passages 
selected  by  the  inclusion  of  the  legends  and 
traditions  connected  with  the  various  flowers  and 
plants  mentioned  by  Dante.  It  is  doubtful,  how- 
ever, to  what  extent  Dante  was  himself  acquainted 
with  these.  There  is  little  trace  in  his  writings 
of  any  knowledge  on  his  part  of  plant-lore1 
(except,  of  course,  such  as  is  to  be  derived  from 
classical  sources,  as  in  the  case  of  the  mulberry, 
for  instance),  though  he  was  familiar  enough  with 
the  kindred  lore  of  the  "  bestiaries,"  as  is  evident 
from  his  references  to  the  phoenix  and  the  pelican. 
Sometimes,  perhaps,  a  point  has  been  stretched  in 
order  to  include  such  flowers  as  the  narcissus,  the 
veronica,  and  the  passion  flower,  to  which  Dante 
does  not  actually  refer,  but  the  reader  will  prob- 
ably not  be  inclined  to  cavil  on  this  account. 

Those  who  know  Dante  only  as  the  Poet  of 
Hell  will,  we  think,  be  grateful  to  Miss  Cotes  for 
her  presentation  of  him  here  as  the  Poet  of 
Flowers,  a  title  not  inappropriate  to  one  whose 
native  place  was  Fiorenza,  the  Flower-City. 

Paget  Toynbee. 

1  A  possible  exception  is  his  mention  of  the  heliotrope  in 
the  Letter  to  the  Princes  and  Peoples  of  Italy  ;  but  the  refer- 
ence in  this  case  is  probably  not,  as  many  think,  to  the 
flower,  but  to  the  gem,  of  that  name. 

8 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Dante's  Garden.         .  .         .         .         .         .n 

The  Rose    .  .         .         .         .         .         .         .  .17 

The  Olive  ........  .22 

The  Veronica  or  Speedwell 29 

The  Laurel  ...  •         •         •         •       33 

The  Lilt    .........       36 

The  Plum 41 

The  Marguerite  or  Daisy 45 

The  Ivy 50 

The  Crown  Imperial  .         .  .         .         .         .         -55 

The  Rush 58 

The  Violet 62 

The  Fig  Tree 65 

The  Pine 70 

The  Passion  Flower 73 

The  Oak 76 

9 


CONTENTS 

VACS 

Syrinx  and  the  Reed  .         .         .         .         .         .81 

Apple-Blossom     .         .         .         .         .         .         .         -83 

The  Myrtle 87 

The  Fir       .........       92 

The  Narcissus      ....         ....       94. 

The  Briar-Rose  .......  98 

The  Palm  ......         ...     100 

The  Vine  .........     104 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem      .         .         .         .         .         .107 


DANTE'S     GARDEN 

"  Let  thy  upsoaring  vision  range  at  large 
This  garden  through  ..." 

Par.  xxxi.  97. 

NO  reader  of  the  Divina  Commedia  can  fail 
to  notice  Dante's  love  for  all  the  green, 
fresh,  scented  things  of  the  earth,  and  more 
especially  for  flowers. 

Throughout  the  latter  part  of  the  poem  we 
find  him  continually  employing  flowers,  in  three 
distinct  ways.  First,  for  their  colour — he  con- 
stantly uses  them  as  examples  of  the  delicate 
tints  he  wishes  to  convey  to  the  mind  of  the 
reader.  Then,  for  their  emblematical  signi- 
ficance— as  he  was  accustomed  to  think  of  them 
in  association  with  the  legends  of  the  saints  in 
mediaeval  Church  history,  or  as  adorning  heathen 
mythology.       And    lastly,  for   the  flowers  them- 


DANTE'S   GARDEN 

selves ;  for  the  love  he  bore  them  because  they 
were  flowers,  and  because  they  were  associated 
in  his  mind  with  early  aspirations  of  innocence 
and  purity. 

Much  in  his  writings  leads  us  to  imagine  that 
at  some  period  of  Dante's  life  there  may  have 
been  a  garden  that  he  knew  and  loved — a  garden 
to  which  his  thoughts  recurred  with  all  the  vivid- 
ness of  boyish  impression,  when,  as  a  banished 
man,  and  an  outcast  from  home  and  country,  he 
wrote  of  early  dawn,  the  scented  earth,  the  leaves 
all  bending  in  one  direction  as  the  breeze  passed 
over  them,  and  the  song  of  the  birds  in  the 
trees. 

Whenever  he  alludes  to  a  garden,  it  is  always 
as  a  place  of  joy  and  innocence,  a  restful  oasis 
in  his  journey  from  the  Infemo,  and  eventually 
realised  amongst  his  highest  conceptions  of 
heavenly  felicity. 

Dante,  speaking  in  the  person  of  Adam,  says 
of  the  Terrestrial  Paradise — 

"...   Dio  mi  poso 
Nell'  eccelso  giardino,  ove  costei 
A  cosi  lunga  scala  ti  dispose."1 

"  God  placed  me  in  that  high  garden,  from  whose  bounds 
She  led  thee  up  the  ladder,  steep  and  long." 

1  Par.  xxvi.  109. 
12 


DANTE'S   GARDEN 

And  in  the  same  canto — 

"  As  for  the  leaves  that  in  the  garden  bloom 
My  love  for  them  is  great,  as  is  the  good 
Dealt  by  the  eternal  hand  that  tends  them  all." 

"  Le  fronde  onde  s'infronda  tutto  l'orto 
Dell'  Ortolano  eterno,  am'io  cotanto, 
Quanto  da  lui  a  lor  di  bene  e  porto."1 

And  again,  speaking  of  St.  Dominic,  he  calls 
him — 

"The  labourer  whom  Christ  in  His  own  garden 
Chose  to  be  His  help-mate." 

"...  Ed  io  ne  parlo 
Si  come  dell'  agricola,  che  Cristo 
Elesse  all'  orto  suo,  per  aiutarlo.  "2 

Sometimes  it  is  the  garden  of  the  Terrestrial 
Paradise,  sometimes  the  garden  of  the  Church, 
and  sometimes  that  most  exquisite  and  glorious 
garden  of  heaven  itself — 

"...   that  beautiful  garden 
Blossoming  beneath  the  rays  of  Christ." 

"  .  .   .  il  bel  giardino 
Che  sotto  i  raggi  di  Cristo  s'infiora,"3 

the  garden  of  which  Dante  says,  "  Heaven's 
decree  forecasts  "  that  it  shall  be  filled  eventually 
with  all  the  spirits  of  the  blest. 

1  Par.  xxvi.  64.  2  Par.  xii.  70.  3  Par.  xxiii.  71. 

13 


DANTE'S   GARDEN 

There  is  a  passage  in  the  Vita  Nuova  in  which 
Dante,  after  speaking  of  his  first  meeting  with 
Beatrice,  in  his  ninth  year,  says  that  he  went 
many  times  in  his  boyhood  to  seek  this  most 
youthful  angel,  at  the  bidding  of  Love,  who  had 
then  taken  rule  in  his  heart.  May  not  these  first 
meetings  have  taken  place  in  a  garden  ? — in  the 
garden  of  Beatrice's  Florentine  home  ? 

We  have  ample  evidence  in  his  writings  that 
a  garden  existed  somewhere  in  Dante's  fancy, 
and  that  thither  the  poet  would  often  retire  in 
imagination,  and  wander  along  its  paths,  and 
refresh  his  weary  soul  with  the  springing  green 
shoots,  the  leaves  and  herbs  and  flowers,  which 
are  brought  so  vividly  before  us  in  the  Purgatorio 
and  Paradiso. 

Who  would  not  have  loved  to  roam  with  him 
here  ?  What  a  store  of  legend  and  poesy  and 
fancy  must  have  hung  around  the  plants  and 
flowers  of  many  lands  in  this  garden  of  his,  flowers 
whose  seeds  had  been  brought  by  the  circling 
breezes  from  the  Terrestrial  Paradise. 

The  thought  of  a  flower  may  be  suggestive,  as 
the  pages  of  a  missal  in  some  ancient  shaded 
library,  whereon  glow  wondrous  quaint  illumina- 
tions, and  brilliant,  richly-coloured  borders,  with 
legends  and  old-world  stories  written  between. 
For  every  flower  has  its  history,  which  differs 
14 


DANTE'S   GARDEN 

for   each    human   soul   that   reads    between   the 
leaves. 

Dante  does  not  mention  many  flowers  by  name, 
nor  any,  without  clear  indication  that  he  has 
dreamt  and  thought  much  over  its  legendary 
association,  that  to  him  it  is  not  only  a  flower,  but 
also  the  emblem  of  certain  virtues  or  saintly 
qualities,  or  the  graceful  memento  of  some  classical 
legend.  In  everything  connected  with  Dante's 
flowers  we  have  the  mystic  soul  of  the  poet 
impressed  upon  us — the  poet  who  sees  more  than 
the  flower  whilst  gazing  at  the  flower,  and  to 
whom  the  vision  of  its  beauty  opens  avenues  of 
thought,  in  which  the  object  itself  at  times  is 
swept  away  by  the  flood  of  fancy  it  produces. 

In  this  manner  we  may  interpret  his  allusions 
to  the  narcissus,  the  syringa,  the  veronica,  and 
many  others,  where  the  poetical  references  are  to 
the  legends  rather  than  to  the  flowers  associated 
with  the  legends,  yet  one  may  suppose  that  the 
poet  at  the  same  time  had  in  mind  the  dainty 
scented  blossom,  the  green  rush  by  the  riverside, 
or  the  wild  bird's-eye  imprinted  with  the  face  of 
the  Saviour,  that  ever  turns  its  transparent  petals 
towards  the  sky,  and  that  he  indulged  the  double 
fancy  with  a  full  appreciation  of  the  additional 
beauty  suggested,  by  the  association  of  the  legend 
with  the  flower. 

i5 


DANTE'S   GARDEN 

The  old  well-known  legends  of  the  flowers, 
whether  mythological  or  ecclesiastical,  may  well 
carry  us  back  into  Dante's  garden,  whither  the 
poet,  outcast  and  banished,  would  retire  from  the 
harsh  realities  of  his  daily  life,  and  would  wander 
in  fancy  at  early  dawn,  when  the  leaves  were  full 
of  the  movement  and  song  of  the  awakening  birds, 
and  whence,  amidst  the  wealth  of  bloom  and 
colour,  he  would  select  here  a  leaf  and  there  a 
flower  for  the  embellishment  of  his  immortal 
jx>em. 


16 


THE     ROSE 

"  No  braid  of  lilies  on  their  temples  wreathed. 
Rather,  with  roses,  and  each  vermeil  flower, 
A  sight,  but  little  distant,  might  have  sworn 
That  they  were  all  on  fire  above  their  brows.'' 

" .   .  .  di  gigli 
D'intorno  al  capo,  non  facevan  brolo, 
Anzi  di  rose  e  d'altri   nor  vermigli : 
Giurato  avria  poco  lontano  aspetto, 
Che  tutti  ardesser  di  sopra  da  i  cigli." 

Purg.  xxix.  146. 

IT  was  the  dream  of  the  poet  Anacreon,  that 
Aurora  dipped  her  finger-tips  into  the  calyx 
of  the  rose  to  colour  them,  and  as  translated  by 
St.  Victor — 

"Des  plus  tendres  de  ses  feux 
Venus  entiere  se  colore," 

Anacreon  goes  on  to  tell  us  how  the  earth  first 
came  to  produce  this  beautiful  creation. 

The  wave   having  given   birth  to  its   glorious 
B  17 


THE    ROSE 

goddess  Cypris,  and  Minerva  having  sprung  from 
the  brain  of  Jupiter,  Cybele  could  only  oppose 
to  the  beauty  of  these  two  goddesses  a  tiny  bud 
appearing  upon  a  young  shoot.  But  at  the  first 
sight  of  the  nascent  rose-bud  Olympus  smiled, 
and  shed  upon  it  nectar  for  dew.  The  young 
bud,  thus  watered  from  heaven,  slowly  opened, 
and  upon  its  shining  stem  appeared  the  first 
rose,  the  queen  of  flowers,  unfolding  her  petals 
in  the  summer  sunshine. 

To  Dante  the  first  flower  in  his  garden  is 
the  rose,  and  this  not  for  any  mythological 
association,  but  because  it  represented  to  him 
the  centre  of  his  religion  and  faith.  To  him 
it  is  a  flower  full  of  mystery,  the  flower  which 
Solomon  sang,  the  rose  blossoming  in  the  garden 
of  Paradise. 

It  represents  in  all  his  symbolism  the  Blessed 
Virgin. 

"...   that  fair  flower,  whom  duly  1  invoke 
Both  morn  and  eve  ..." 

".       .   quel  bel  fior,  ch'io  sempre  invoco 
E  mane  e  sera  .      .  " 1 

and  to  whom  his  Beatrice  herself  is  but  hand- 
maiden. A  great  governing  fact  in  Dante's  life 
is  his  love  for  Beatrice,  but  the  keynote  of  his 

1  Par.  xxiii.  88. 
18 


THE   ROSE 

existence  is  his  love  for  God.  He  says  that  the 
knitting  of  his  heart  to  God  has  from  the  sea  of 
ill-love  saved  his  bark. 

He  employs  the  rose  to  describe  the  whole 
army  of  the  saints,  moving  in  advancing  and 
receding  circles,  like  a  white  rose  unfolding 
and  closing  its  petals.  The  thrones  of  all  the 
blessed 

"  .      .   in  a  circle  spread  so  far 
That  the  circumference  were  too  loose  a  zone 
To  girdle  in  the  sun,"1 

he  compares  to  a  rose  with  its  leaves  extended 
wide.  The  holy  multitude  in  heaven  seem  to 
him 

"In  fashion  as  a  snow-white  rose." 
"In  forma  di  Candida  rosa."2 

In  pictured  representations  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin  the  lily  is  frequently  introduced,  as  a  fit 
emblem  of  grace  and  purity;  but  with  Dante 
the  lily  is  not  sufficient.  No  pale  colour,  or  the 
purity  of  white  only,  can  express  in  his  glowing 
imagery  the  mystery  of  humanity  carried  into 
heaven,  or,  in  the  person  of  the  mother  of  our 
Lord,  drawing  heaven  down  to  itself. 

1  Par.  XXX.   103.  2  Par.  XXxi.   I. 

19 


THE   ROSE 

To  him  the  Blessed  Virgin  is  the  rose. 

"...  the  rose, 
Wherein  the  Word  divine  was  made  incarnate." 

"...  la  rosa,  in  che'l  Verbo  Divino 
Carne  si  fece."1 

These  burning  words  do  not  express  the  pallor  of 
the  lily,  but  the  full,  glorious,  scented  bosom  of 
the  rose.  Beatrice,  with  her  eyes  full  of  gladness, 
points  out  to  him  the  mystic  rose,  in  the  garden 
of  Paradise,  blossoming  under  the  rays  of  God. 

In  the  canto  before  that  in  which  Beatrice  first 
appears  and  speaks  with  Dante,  he  describes  a 
glorious  vision  of  a  triumphal  procession  of  the 
Christian  Church.  In  this  vision  roses  and  lilies 
both  figure  as  crowns  on  the  brows  of  the  saints, 
and  their  comparative  significance  in  his  mind  is 
clearly  indicated. 

The  lily  is  the  type  of  purity,  only  reached  in 
heaven ;  but  the  rose  is  still  first.  For  the  rose 
includes  everything :  light  and  vivid  colour,  and 
purity  above  all,  but  purity  that  has  blossomed 
forth  into  the  living  flame  of  heavenly  love.  The 
last  seven  spirits  in  the  procession,  who  wear  the 
red  roses,  no  longer  need 

"The  braid  of  lilies  on  their  temples  wreathed," 

1  Par.  xxiii.  73. 
20 


THE   ROSE 

but,  at  a  little  distance,  it  might  have  seemed 
that 

"They  were   all  on  fire  above  their  brows,"1 

enwreathed  with  red  roses — on  fire  with  heavenly 
zeal  and  love.  This  is  but  in  the  Earthly  Paradise. 
Later  on,  when  Dante  reaches  heaven,  he  says 
that  he  feels  love  and  adoration  "  full  blossomed  " 
in  his  bosom  "as  a  rose  before  the  sun," 

"...   When  the  consummate  flower 
Has  spread  to  utmost  amplitude !  " 

"  Come  il  Sol  fa  la  rosa,  quando  aperta 
Tanto  divien  quant'  ell'  ha  di  possanza."2 

1  Purg.  xxix.  150.  2  Par   xxii.  56. 


THE     OLIVE 

".  .  In  white  veil  with  olive  wreathed 
A  virgin  in  my  view  appeared,  beneath 
Green  mantle,  robed  in  hue  of  living  flame." 

"  Sopra  candido  vel  cinta  d'oliva 
Donna  m'apparve,  sotto  verde  manto, 
Vestita  di  color  di  fiamma  viva." 

Purg.  xxx.  31. 

"  As  the  multitude 
Flock  round  a  herald  sent  with  olive  branch 
To  hear  what  news  he  brings." 

"E  come  a  messaggier  che  porta  olivo 
Tragge  la  gente  per  udir  novelle." 

Purg.  ii.  70. 

OLIVE  is  the  sign  of  peace,  and  when  Dante 
encircles  Beatrice's  brow  with  olive  it  is  a 
sign  that  she  comes  as  a  messenger  of  peace  from 
God  to  him. 

Most  of  the  countries  in  Europe  have  retained 
22 


THE   OLIVE 

different  versions  of  the  ancient  Hebrew  and 
Greek  traditions  of  the  tree  of  Adam. 

This  tree  arose  from  the  grave  of  our  first 
parent,  and  the  three  rods  of  which  it  was 
composed  were  the  olive,  the  cedar,  and  the 
cypress.  These  three  rods  grew  together,  and 
the  cross  of  Christ  was  afterwards  made  of  the 
tree  they  produced. 

Sir  John  Maundeville  writes :  u  The  table 
u  aboven  His  heved  that  was  a  fote  and  a  half 
"  long,  on  whiche  the  tytle  was  written  in  Ebrew, 
"  Grece,  and  Latyn,  that  was  of  Olyve ; "  and  in 
another  place  he  quaintly  explains  it :  "  The 
u  table  of  the  tytle  thei  maden  of  Olyve ;  for 
"  Olyve  betokeneth  Pes.  And  the  storye  of  Noe 
"  witnesseth  whan  that  Culver  broughte  the 
"  braunche  of  Olyve,  that  betokened  pes  made 
"  betwene  God  and  man.  And  so  trowed  the 
"  Jewes  for  to  have  pes  whan  Crist  was  ded ;  for 
"  thei  sayd  that  He  made  discord  and  strife 
"  amonges  them." 

The  table  of  the  title  being  made  of  olive  has 
always  been  considered  in  the  Church  as  an 
emblem  of  peace  and  reconciliation  between  God 
and  man,  over  the  dying  body  of  Christ ;  and  in 
many  parts  of  Italy  there  still  survive  favourable 
superstitions  with  regard  to  an  olive  branch. 
The  young  girls  use  them  for  divination,  and 
23 


THE   OLIVE 

the  peasants  believe  that  no  witch  or  sorcerer 
will  enter  a  house  where  an  olive  branch  that 
has  been  blessed  is  suspended.  In  Venetia  it 
is  considered  a  safeguard  against  storm  and 
lightning,  and  amongst  the  ancient  songs  of 
Provence  one  —  called  the  Reaper's  Grace  —  is 
yet  retained  in  their  harvest  festivals  of  the 
present  day,  recording  the  story  of  the  tree  of 
Adam,  and  the  olive  of  which  the  title-board 
was  made. 

In  Grecian  and  Roman  mythology  the  olive 
is  dedicated  to  Minerva.  Virgil  calls  her  "  Oleae 
Inventrix,"  the  originator  of  the  olive,  on  account 
of  an  old  tradition  that  she  disputed  the  worship 
of  the  Athenians  with  Neptune,  and  when  the 
god  of  the  sea  opened  a  salt  spring  in  the  rock 
of  the  Acropolis  to  show  his  power,  Minerva 
caused  a  beautiful  olive  tree  to  spring  from  the 
ground.  The  gods  held  a  council,  and  awarded 
the  palm  to  Minerva,  who  became  the  tutelary 
deity  of  the  Athenians,  and  from  that  time  their 
riders  sought  to  turn  them  from  warlike  and 
seafaring  pursuits  to  the  cultivation  of  the  soil 
and  arts  of  peace. 

Perhaps  Dante  remembered  when  he  crowned 

Beatrice   with    olive,    that   thus    from    the    olive 

might   be    said   to    date    the    glorious   works   of 

Cimabue  and  Giotto,  since  art  in  Italy  derived 

24 


THE   OLIVE 

its  first  inspiration  from  the  earlier  art  and 
civilisation  of  Greece,  for  which  Greece  was 
indebted  to  the  sacred  olive  branch. 

An  olive  tree  grew  in  the  temple  of  Minerva. 
When  any  Athenian  went  to  consult  the  Delphic 
oracle  he  carried  a  branch  of  olive  in  his  hand ; 
and  in  the  laws  of  Solon  special  directions  were 
given  for  the  proper  mode  of  planting  and  nurtur- 
ing the  sacred  tree. 

A  legend  handed  down  from  the  earliest  times 
records  that  when  Adam  was  very  aged  he 
attempted  to  root  up  a  large  bush,  and  having 
strained  himself  in  the  effort,  and  feeling  his 
end  approaching,  he  sent  his  son  Seth  to  the 
angel  that  guarded  the  gates  of  the  garden  of 
Eden,  to  beg  for  a  little  of  the  oil  of  mercy  from 
the  tree  of  life. 

The  angel  refused,  but  sent  a  message  to  Adam 
to  tell  him  that  in  later  days  the  precious  oil 
would  be  sent  to  his  descendants,  when  the  Son 
of  God  should  visit  the  earth. 

He  then  gave  Seth  three  small  seeds  to  place 
in  his  father's  mouth  after  death,  and  told  him 
to  bury  Adam  near  Mount  Tabor  in  the  Valley 
of  Hebron. 

This  was  done,  and  in  a  short  time  three  rods 
appeared  above  the  ground — a  cedar,  a  cypress, 
and   an   olive   tree.      These   did   not    leave   the 

25 


THE   OLIVE 

mouth  of  Adam,  nor  was  their  existence  known, 
till  Moses  received  orders  of  God  to  cut  a  branch 
from  them.  This  branch  exhaled  a  perfume  of 
the  promised  land,  and  with  it  Moses  performed 
many  miracles,  healing  the  sick,  drawing  water 
from  the  rock,  etc.  It  was  on  the  exact  spot  of 
Adam's  grave  that  God  appeared  to  Moses  out  of 
a  burning  bush,  supposed  to  have  been  one  of 
these  miraculous  trees. 

After  Moses'  death  the  three  rods  remained 
unheeded  in  the  Valley  of  Hebron  till  the  time 
of  King  David,  who,  warned  in  a  dream,  went 
and  found  them  there.  He  also  performed 
miracles  with  them — healing  the  leprous,  palsied, 
and  blind.  In  some  stories  the  three  rods  are 
supposed  to  have  united  in  one  large  tree,  typical 
of  the  Holy  Trinity. 

King  David  placed  the  young  cedar  tree  in  the 
temple,  where  thirty  years  afterwards  Solomon 
was  about  to  use  it  with  the  cedars  of  Lebanon 
in  the  glorious  restoration  of  the  ancient  build- 
ings. Here  the  Queen  of  Sheba  saw  it,  and 
prophesied :  "  Thrice  blessed  is  this  wood  on 
which  the  sins  of  the  world  shall  be  expiated ! " 
The  Jews  were  indignant  at  the  suggestion  of 
a  degrading  death  in  connection  with  the 
Messiah,  and  cast  it  into  the  "  Probatica  Piscina," 
the  Pool  of  Bethesda,  where  it  remained  till  the 
26 


THE   OLIVE 

day  of  Christ's  condemnation,  when  it  was  taken 
out  to  make  the  cross.1  During  the  time  that 
it  remained  in  the  Pool  of  Bethesda  an  angel 
visited  it  periodically,  and  the  water  had 
miraculous  powers  of  healing  all  diseases. 

Sir  John  Maundeville  tells  us  that  the  church 
of  St.  Katherine — which  stood  in  his  day  in  the 
vicinity  of  Mount  Sinai — marks  the  spot  where 
God  revealed  Himself  to  Moses,  and  in  it  were 
many  lamps  continually  kept  burning.  The  birds 
kept  these  lamps  supplied  with  oil,  bringing 
sprays  of  olives  in  their  beaks,  from  which  the 
monks  distilled  the  oil.  "  For  thei  have  of  Oyle 
"  of  Olyves  ynow  bothe  for  to  brenne  in  here 
"  lampes,  and  to  ete  also  ;  and  that  plentie  have 
"  thei,  be  a  Myracle  of  God,  for  the  Ravens  and 
"  Crowes  and  the  Choughes,  and  other  Foules  of 
"  the  Countree,  assemblen  there  every  yeer  ones, 
"  and  fleen  thider  as  in  pilgrimage  ;  and  everyche 
"  of  hem  bringethe  a  Braunch  of  the  Bays  or  of 
"  Olyve  in  here  bekes,  instede  of  OfFryng,  and 
"  leven  hem  there,  of  the  whiche  the  monks 
"  maken  grete  plentie  of  Oyle,  and  this  is  a  gret 
"  Marvaylle." 

The  stories  which  so  interested  the  pious  and 

credulous  soul  of  Sir  John  Maundeville  had  early 

taken  deep  root  in  Italy,  and  Dante,  when  he 

places  the  olive  in  his  garden  of  imagery,  employs 

*  See  p.  28. 

27 


THE   OLIVE 

it  always  in  its  ecclesiastical  significance  as  an 
emblem  of  peace. 

"  .   .   .  As  when  the  multitude 
Flock  round  a  herald  sent  with  olive  branch 
To  hear  what  news  he  brings  ..." 

Later,  in  the  same  sense,  he  places  the  olive 
as  a  wreath  on  the  head  of  Beatrice  when  she 
descends  to  him  as  a  glorious  apparition  from 
heaven,  clothed  in  the  colours  of  faith,  hope,  and 
charity,  and  wearing  the  emblem  of  eternal  peace 
as  a  coronet  around  her  brow. 

Footnote  to  p.  27. 
Speaking  of  the  tree  of  knowledge,  Buti  says :  "  Of  a 
branch  of  this  tree  and  of  other  wood  the  Cross  was  made, 
and  from  that  branch  was  suspended  such  sweet  fruit  as  the 
body  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  then  Adam  and  other 
saints  had  the  oil  of  mercy,  inasmuch  as  they  were  taken 
from  Limbo  and  led  by  Christ  into  eternal  life." 


THE    VERONICA    OR    SPEED- 
WELL 

«s .   .  .  Like  a  wight 
Who  haply  from  Croatia  wends  to  see 
Our  Veronica,  and  the  while  'tis  shown 
Hangs  over  it  with  never-sated  gaze — 
...   So  gazed  I  then  adoring." 

'•'Quale  e  colui,  che  forse  di  Croazia, 
Viene  a  veder  la  Veronica  nostra 
Che  per  l'antica  fama  non  si  sazia 
Ma  dice  nel  pensier,  fin  che  si  mostra  : 
Signor  mio  Gesu  Cristo,  Dio  verace 
Or  fu  si  fatta  la  sembianza  vostra  ? 
Tale  era  io  .   .  .  " 

Par.  xxxi.  103. 

OUT  in  the  meadows  in  many  eountry  places 
grows   a   little    wild    flower    deserving   a 
special  mention  in  Dante's  garden,  for  upon  its 
delicate  blue  petals  is  impressed  the  face  of  our 
Blessed  Lord — only  a  faint  and  imperfect  sugges- 
29 


THE   VERONICA   OR   SPEEDWELL 

tion  of  the  face,  the  two  eyes  enclosed  in  the  M, 
recording  the  word  OMO,  in  the  human  features 
— no  actual  portrait  of  the  Saviour ;  and  yet  this 
little  plant  bears  the  name  of  Veronica,  and  is 
dedicated  to  the  saint  whose  love  and  sympathy 
preserved  to  us  for  all  ages  the  likeness  of  the 
face  of  Christ. 

Dante  says,  in  a  passage  in  the  Paradiso, — when 
he  has  just  met  St.  Bernard,  and  is  about  to 
behold  a  glorious  vision  of  the  Blessed  Virgin, — 
that,  "  Like  to  one  who  haply  from  Croatia  wends 
to  see  our  Veronica,  and  while  'tis  shown  hangs 
over  it  with  never-sated  gaze,"  so  he  stood  lost  in 
adoring  contemplation  in  heaven. 

This  Veronica  he  mentions  is  not  the  flower, 
but  the  miraculous  handkerchief,  with  the  like- 
ness of  the  Saviour's  face  impressed  upon  it, 
probably  the  one  in  Rome,  which  attracted  vast 
numbers  of  pilgrims  from  distant  parts,  to  come 
and  gaze,  for  once  in  their  lives,  upon  what 
they  believed  to  be  the  true  features  of  their 
Lord. 

The  legend  of  St.  Veronica — the  most  truly 
womanly  saint  of  the  calendar — relates  that  when 
our  Saviour  was  on  His  way  to  Calvary  He  sank 
beneath  the  weight  of  the  cross,  and  Veronica 
came  forward,  brave  and  tender,  ready  to  acknow- 
ledge her  allegiance  amidst  all  His  foes,  and 
30 


THE   VERONICA   OR   SPEEDWELL 

wiped  the  sweat  from  His  brow  with  her  hand- 
kerchief. 

The  story  does  not  record  what  insults  may 
have  been  showered  upon  her  by  the  rabble 
around  for  this  little  act  of  womanly  tenderness, 
but  we  are  told  that  a  representation  of  the  face 
of  our  Lord  appeared  upon  the  handkerchief,  and 
that  it  was  ever  after  treasui*ed  as  a  wondrous 
memento  of  His  passion.  The  handkerchief  is 
supposed  to  have  healing  qualities,  and  in  this 
particular  the  little  medicinal  field-flower  veronica 
shares  its  miraculous  virtues. 

Around  every  glorious  deed  in  the  world's 
history  poetical  fancy  has  wreathed  flowers  of 
fervent  imagination.  Strange,  indeed,  if  such  a 
life  as  that  of  Christ  should  have  escaped,  and 
such  stories,  though  too  little  authenticated, 
retain  some  touch  of  the  fervent  love  of  the  early 
Church. 

The  legend  of  St.  Veronica  is  extended  to  the 
little  speedwell  flower,  said  to  have  grown  at  the 
Saviour's  feet,  and  to  have  received  some  drops 
falling  from  the  sacred  forehead. 

The  flower  is  of  a  most  delicate  blue  colour. 
The  centre  is  white,  and  from  it  spring  two 
slender,  ball-tipped  stamens.  At  a  little  distance 
the  effect  of  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth  is  faintly  pro- 
duced upon  its  petals.  The  devout  religionist  of 
3* 


THE   VERONICA   OR   SPEEDWELL. 

the  Middle  Ages,  fancying  lie  discerned  the  very 
face  of  his  Lord  gazing  at  him  from  the  tiny 
azure  flower, — as  it  might  have  been  in  a  vision, 
from  the  blue  of  heaven, — exclaimed,  "It  is 
indeed  the  Vera  Icon !  Our  Veronica  that  has 
taken  root ! " 


3= 


THE     LAUREL 

"     .   .   O  power  divine! 
If  thou  to  me  of  thine  impart  so  much 
That  of  that  happy  realm  the  shadow'd  form 
Traced  in  my  thoughts  I  may  set  forth  to  view  ; 
Thou  shalt  behold  me  of  thy  favoured  tree 
Come  to  the  foot,  and  crown  myself  with  leaves." 

"  O  divina  virtu,  se  mi  ti  presti 
Tanto,  che  l'ombra  del  beato  regno 
Segnata  nel  mio  capo  io  manifesti, 
Venir  vedraimi  al  tuo  diletto  legno, 
E  coronarmi  allor  di  quelle  foglie, 
Che  la  materia  e  tu  mi  farai  degno." 

Par.  i.   22 

THE  favoured  tree  of  the  gods  is  the  laurel, 
the  crown  of  the  mighty  conqueror  and  of 
the  poet. 

The  laurel  was  consecrated  by  the  Greeks  and 
Romans  to    every  kind    of  glory ;    philosophers, 
warriors,  even  emperors,  considered  it  the  highest 
C  33 


THE   LAUREL 

honour  to  obtain  the  laurel  wreath,  and  Dante 
foretells,  at  the  commencement  of  his  Paradiso, 
that  he  also  will  obtain  such  a  crown,  if  the 
"  powers  divine "  whom  he  invokes  will  enable 
his  genius  to  complete  his  high  theme. 

Delphos,  on  the  shores  of  the  river  Peneus,  is 
famous  for  its  laurel  trees.  Dante  speaks  of  a 
wreath  of  the  laurel  as  the  "  Peneian  foliage,"  1 
gathered  to  grace  the  triumph  of  a  Caesar  or  to 
deck  the  brows  of  a  bard. 

The  beautiful  nymph  Daphne  was  changed  into 
a  laurel  tree.  She  rejected  the  addresses  of  Apollo, 
in  spite  of  the  magic  of  his  wondrous  music  and 
the  eloquence  of  his  entreaties ;  and  when  pur- 
sued by  him,  she  fled  to  the  banks  of  the  river 
Peneus,  and  invoked  the  protection  of  her  sire. 
Peneus  entreated  the  gods,  who  changed  her  into 
a  laurel,  which  became  henceforth  the  favoured 
tree  of  heaven.  As  an  emblem  of  virtue  and 
the  graces  of  the  mind,  it  has  always  been  pre- 
eminent, and  was  considered  a  suitable  crown  for 
beauty  to  place  upon  the  brows  of  a  conqueror, 
and  a  meet  reward  for  those  who  held  intellectual 
and  mental  pursuits  in  higher  esteem  than  the 
indulgences  of  wealth  or  luxury. 

When  Apollo  reached  the  river's  bank,  and 
saw   nothing    but    a   waving    laurel    tree   where 

1  Par.  i.  33. 

34 


THE   LAUREL 

the  beautiful  Daphne  should  have  been^  he  is 
supposed  to  have  broken  into  the  following 
lament : — 

"  Puisque  du  ciel  la  volonte  jalouse 
Ne  permet  pas  que  tu  sois  mon  e'pouse, 
Sois  mon  arbre  du  moins  ;  que  ton  feuillage  heureux 
Enlace  mon  carquois,  mon  arc,  et  mes  cheveux!"1 

1  Saint-Ange,  Metamorphoses  d'Ovide. 


35 


THE     LILY 

•*...'  From  full  hands  scatter  ye 
Unwithering  lilies : '  and  so  saying  cast 
Flowers  overhead,  and  round  them  on  all  sides." 

"  Fior  gittando  di  sopra  e  d'intorno 
Manibus  o  date  lilia  plenis. " 

Purg,   XXX.  20. 

THE  tall  white  garden  lily  is  by  many  sup- 
posed to  be  dedicated  to  St.  Joseph,  and 
on  account  of  its  purity  and  grace  it  is  also 
used  in  mystic  representations  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin. 

The  lily  is  the  emblem  of  purity,  and  in 
Christian  art  is  employed  in  pictures  of  the 
Annunciation,  the  adoration  of  the  Magi,  and 
the  enthronement  of  the  Holy  Child. 

It   is    called    the    Madonna    lily,   and    seems 
specially    connected    with    associations    of    the 
mother   of  our  Lord.       Yet   the  legend   of  the 
36 


THE    LILY 

lily  does  not  relate  to  the  Blessed  Virgin.  It  is 
dedicated  in  all  ancient  story  to  St.  Catherine, 
whose  name  (from  the  Greek  Ka.6a.poi)  signifies 
pure,  undefiled,  and  who,  as  the  inspirer  of 
wisdom  and  good  counsel  in  time  of  need,  may 
be  said  to  be  the  patron  saint  of  those  sweet 
flowers 

"...   the  lilies,  by  whose  odour  known 
The  way  of  life  was  followed." 

"  .  .   .   li  gigli 
Al  cui  odor  si  prese'l  buon  cammino.  "1 

In  the  vision  of  St.  Catherine,  angels  come 
forth  to  meet  her  wearing  chaplets  of  white 
lilies ;  and  it  was  through  this  flower  that  St. 
Catherine's  father — Costis — became  converted  to 
Christianity,  when  all  the  arguments  of  the  saint 
had  failed  to  turn  him  from  the  errors  of  heathen- 
ism. Until  that  time  the  lily  had  been  a  scent- 
less flower,  and  its  powerful  perfume  is  said  to 
date  back  only  as  far  as  the  fourth  century,  when 
through  a  miracle  wrought  in  a  vision,  Costis  was 
turned  into  the  right  path. 

Costis  was  the  emperor  of  Alexandria,  and 
half-brother  to  Constantine  the  Great.  He  was 
extremely  devoted  to  his  daughter,  whose  studies 
he  superintended,  and  whose  extraordinary  abil- 

1  Par.  xxiii.  74. 

37 


THE  LILY 

ities  afforded  him  a  source  of  constant  pride  and 
pleasure. 

The  one  great  grief  of  Catherine's  early  days 
lay  in  the  fact  that  while  her  arguments,  drawn 
from  Plato,  Aristotle,  and  the  Gospels,  had  reduced 
her  seven  masters  to  footstools  at  her  feet,  no 
arguments  were  of  any  avail  with  her  father,  who 
continued  to  worship  his  false  gods.  She  prayed 
much  and  earnestly  for  him  ;  and  at  length  one 
night  Costis  had  a  vision,  in  which  he  saw  his 
daughter,  with  a  book  in  her  hand,  walking  by 
his  side,  and  arguing  with  him,  as  was  her  wont, 
from  Plato.  But  as  he  refused  to  listen  to  her, 
he  perceived  that  the  pathway  they  were  pursu- 
ing suddenly  diverged,  one  part  leading  down  a 
flowery  vale,  and  the  other  up  a  steep  and  stony 
incline. 

Catherine  left  his  side  and  turned  up  the  steep 
and  stony  path,  where  she  quickly  disappeared 
from  view. 

Costis  stood  hesitating  between  the  two  ways, 
unable  to  make  up  his  mind  which  direction  to 
follow,  when  he  was  attracted  by  a  delicate  and 
subtle  perfume  proceeding,  as  it  seemed  to  him, 
from  some  distant  field  of  white  objects  far  up 
the  stony  path,  and  dimly  illumined  by  a  light 
proceeding  from  the  summit  of  the  hill.  He 
turned  up  the  steep  incline,  and  soon  found  him- 
38 


THE   LILY 

self  in  a  garden  of  white  lilies,  stretching  far  up 
to  the  portals  of  a  golden  gateway,  seeming  to 
his  enchanted  gaze  the  very  entrance  to  Paradise. 
Sinking  down  bewildered  and  overcome  with 
penitence  in  the  midst  of  the  miraculously 
scented  lilies,  Costis  resolved  to  renounce  from 
henceforth  his  heathen  gods,  and  serve  the  only 
true  Christ.  As  he  lay  thus,  Catherine  came 
forth  from  the  gateway,  and  led  him  by  the  hand 
into  the  Golden  City. 

When  he  awoke  from  his  vision,  Costis  deter- 
mined to  be  baptized,  and  he  soon  drew  a  multi- 
tude of  his  people  with  him  into  the  path  of 
Christianity — in  those  days,  indeed,  a  hard  and 
thorny  way,  leading  too  often  to  the  cross  of 
martyrdom  ere  the  Golden  City  could  be  reached. 

The  scentless  lily  became  henceforth  the 
sweetest  among  flowers,  and  was  dedicated  by 
common  consent  to  the  martyred  virgin,  St. 
Catherine. 

Dante  considers  the  rose  and  lily  to  be  equally 
the  flowers  of  Paradise. 

Before  the  purity  of  the  lily,  as  in  the  won- 
drous mystic  presence  of  the  rose,  his  genius  fails 
and  trembles.  When  he  sees  the  vision  of  the 
glorious  multitudes,  with  Beatrice  in  their  midst, 
descending  from  heaven  and  scattering  lilies 
around  them, — "A  hundred  ministers  and  mes- 
39 


THE   LILY 

sengers  of  life  eternal/' — his  thoughts  involun- 
tarily recur  to  the  words  of  the  poet  Virgil,  and 
he  quotes — 

"  Manibus  o  date  lilia  plenis," 

at  this  supreme  moment  paying  the  final  tribute 
to  his  faithful  friend  and  guide,  who  has  just  left 
him.  From  this  time  Beatrice  alone  is  to  guide 
him  forward  into  the  higher  regions  he  is  now 
approaching. 

With  Beatrice  alone  he  will  enter  Paradise. 
Dante  has  as  yet  not  been  fully  purged  from  his 
sins,  nor  does  he  hold  himself  yet  worthy  to  gaze 
upon  the  pure  face  of  the  lily.  Its  vision  is 
dimmed  for  him  through  tears  into  a  flooded, 
expansive  light,  like  a  pearl  of  unapproachable 
perfection.  The  lily  is  only  reached  in  deed  and 
in  truth  when  Beatrice  at  length  descends  to 
him,  and  then  the  glory  of  the  mystic  rose  begins 
to  blend  with  the  purity  of  the  lily. 

The  rose  has  not  yet  triumphed,  but  Dante  is 
at  peace,  and  his  soul  is  satisfied. 

Beatrice  could  show  that  in  heaven  may  be 
reached  the  glistening  heights  where  earthly  love 
so  seldom  finds  a  foothold. 


40 


THE     PLUM 

"  Thereat  a  little  stretching  forth  my  hand 
From  a  great  wilding  gather'd  I  a  branch, 
And  straight  the  trunk    exclaimed :    '  Why  pluck'st 
thou  me  ?  '  " 

"  Allor  porsi  la  mano  un  poco  avante 
E  colsi  un  ramicel  da  un  gran  pruno, 
E  il  tronco  suo  grido :  '  Perche  mi  schiante  ? ' " 

Inf.  xiii.  31. 

THE  wild  plum  tree  of  the  fields  and  hedges, 
growing  neglected  and  unpruned,  is  the 
plant  to  which  Dante  so  continually  alludes  as 
a  type  of  all  that  is  rude  and  uncared-for. 

In  one  instance,  however,  he  speaks  of  it  in 
a  more  gracious  and  hopeful  strain,  when  he  says 
he  has  seen  it  frowning  all  the  winter  long,  yet 
in  the  spring  "bearing  a  blossom  upon  its  top."1 
The  blossom  of  the  plum  appears  before  its  leaf, 

1  Par.  xiii.  135. 

41 


THE   PLUM 

and  upon  the  black  and  frowning  twigs  the 
tender  white  of  an  exquisite  flower  is  a  singularly 
beautiful  suggestion  of  hope  in  circumstances  how- 
ever dark. 

In  Italy,  where  the  plum  is  the  commonest 
and  wildest  of  trees,  it  is  natural  to  think  of  it 
generally  as  an  uncultured  plant  that  grows  out- 
side the  garden,  in  the  same  way  that  we  regard 
the  bramble — in  spite  of  its  blackberries  beloved 
of  children — as  a  type  of  ruin  and  neglect.  Dante 
places  the  souls  of  those  who  have  done  violence 
to  their  own  persons  by  committing  suicide,  in 
the  Inferno,  imprisoned  in  wild  plum  trees,  where 
the  Harpies  build  their  nests,  and  torment  the 
unfortunate  trees  by  feeding  on  their  leaves. 
The  plucking  of  a  leaf  or  bough  causes  the  im- 
prisoned soul  intense  pain,  and  one  of  the  most 
pathetic  scenes  Dante  records  of  his  visit  to  the 
Inferno  is  where  he  by  chance  plucks  a  bough 
from  one  of  these  "  wildings,"  and  the  trunk  cries 
out  and  reproaches  him  with  cruelty  in  thus 
causing  it  unnecessary  torture. 

Virgil  apologises  for  his  pupil,  and  in  the  sub- 
sequent conversation  they  hold  with  the  tree  (in 
which  the  soul  of  Piero  delle  Vigne  is  enclosed), 
the  trunk  informs  them  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  luckless  suicidal  souls  are  cast  down  into  the 
wood  in  the  form  of  seeds,  where  they  take  root, 
42 


THE   PLUM 

"  with  no  place  assigned  them,"  and  grow  into 
these  neglected  trunks. 

The  plum  has  always  been  supposed  to  be 
an  ill-omened  tree,  and  the  traditions  of  nearly 
all  the  European  nations  coincide  on  this  point. 
In  Germany  it  is  thought  unlucky  to  dream  of 
plums,  and  in  England  there  is  an  old  rhyme 
which  says — 

"  Mony  sloanes 
Mony  groanes," 

meaning  that  ill-luck  must  be  expected  in  a  year 
in  which  wild  plums  are  plentiful.  The  Italians 
generally  despise  this  common  fruit,  and  in  Spain 
the  sight  of  a  wild  plum  tree  growing  across  one's 
path  is  considered  sufficient  reason  for  postponing 
a  journey  to  a  later  date,  lest  misfortune  should 
overtake  the  traveller. 

It  is  difficult  to  find  a  place  for  this  plum  of 
ill-omen  in  Dante's  garden,  unless  it  be  as  a 
type  of  the  misfortunes  that  rendered  so  great  a 
part  of  his  life  barren  and  unlovely.  It  must  not 
infringe  the  fragrant  borders  where  grow  the 
roses  and  lilies  of  Paradise.  But  in  the  hedge 
outside,  which  encloses  the  "  gold,  fine  silver, 
scarlet,  and  pearl  white-' 1  of  the  many  flowers  in 
his  cultured  borders,  it  may  grow,  and  cast  the 
shadow    of    its    wild   branches    over   the    "  fresh 

1  Purg.  vii.  73. 
43 


THE   PLUM 

emerald  by  herbage  and  flowers "  planted  where 
the  poet  delights  to  linger.1 

In  early  spring,  when  he  raises  his  eyes  and 
sees  a  tender  white  blossom  adorning  the  frown- 
ing wintry  boughs  before  a  leaf  has  ventured 
forth,  the  wild  plum,  with  this  little  emblem  of 
hope  and  courage  upon  it,  will  serve  to  remind 
him  that  no  life  is  too  hopeless  for  joy  to  blossom 
in  it. 

Purg.  vii.  75 


44 


THE     MARGUERITE     OR 
DAISY 

"  .  Amid  those  pearls 

One,  largest  and  most  lustrous,  onward  drew." 

"  E  la  maggiore,  e  la  piu  luculenta 
Di  quelle  margherite  innanzi  fessi." 

Par.  xxii.  28. 

WHEN  St.  Augustine  first  came  to  Eng- 
land, all  the  woods  were  filled  with 
singing-birds,  and  he  loved  to  roam  in  them  from 
his  monastery  in  Canterbury,  and  watch  the  little 
brown  birds  engaged  in  their  matin  services,  and 
listen  to  their  happy  notes,  while  he  thanked 
God  for  the  music  and  the  singing  and  the 
sunshine. 

One   day,  having  wandered   into   a  wood,   he 

came  unexpectedly  out  into  the  open,  where  the 

sun  was  shining  brilliantly  in  contrast  to  the  dark 

shadows  of  the  trees  he  had  left,  and  before  him 

45 


THE    MARGUERITE   OR   DAISY 

lay  spread  a  meadow  filled  with  daisies  in  full 
bloom. 

At  the  sight  of  these  hundreds  of  little  pale 
spheres,  scattered  over  the  meadow,  the  saint 
was  suddenly  overpowered,  and,  falling  upon  his 
knees,  exclaimed,  "Behold,  a  hundred  pearls, 
with  the  radiance  of  a  living  sun  in  each !  So 
may  the  spirits  of  the  blest  shine  in  heaven !  " 

Dante,  in  one  of  his  visions  in  Paradise,  sees 
St.  Benedict,  St.  Francis,  and  others,  appearing 
to  him  in 

"  A  hundred  little  spheres,  that  fairer  grew 
By  interchange  of  splendour  .  .  .  !>1 

and  tells  us,  amidst  these  "  Margherites,"  one 
"largest  and  most  lustrous,"  the  soul  of  St. 
Benedict,  approached  to  speak  to  him.  He  also 
speaks  of  the  heaven  of  Mercury,  containing  many 
spirits  of  the  blest  as  a  marguerite — 

"Within  the  pearl  that  now  encloses  us, 
Shines  Romeo's  light  ..." 

"  E  dentro  alia  presente  Margherita 
Luce  la  luce  di  Romeo  .  .   .  "2 

On  his  tours  round  the  south  of  England,  when 
St.  Augustine  entered  a  village,  the  children 
came  forth  to  meet  him  crowned  with  wreaths  of 

1  Par.  xxii.  23.  "LPar.  vi.  127 

46 


THE    MARGUERITE   OR   DAISY 

daisies ;  and  on  one  occasion,  when  preaching  in 
the  open  air  to  a  large  audience,  he  chose  the 
daisy  for  his  text,  and  beckoning  to  a  small  boy 
who  carried  a  daisy-chain  in  his  hand  to  come 
near,  he  held  the  chain  up  to  the  assembled 
multitude,  and  slowly  drew  the  flowers,  which 
were  strung  together  by  their  stalks,  one  from  the 
other. 

"  The  sun,"  he  said,  "  has  imaged  himself  in 
the  centre  of  each  of  these  flowers,  as  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness  will  image  Himself  in  each  of  your 
hearts.  From  this  sun  in  the  daisy  white  rays  spread 
round.  So  may  the  rays  of  purity  and  goodness 
spread  around  you,  reflected  from  the  light  of 
heaven  within  you.  And  as  these  flowers  are 
strung  together  in  a  chain,  so  may  you  in  England 
be  united  to  each  other,  and  to  the  holy  churches 
of  the  world,  by  a  chain  that  shall  never  be 
broken.  And,  unlike  the  feeble  stems  of  these 
daisies  that  a  child's  fingers  can  sever,  may  the 
links  of  your  chain  be  indissolubly  connected,  not 
to  be  broken,  though  strained  and  divided  in  the 
ages  to  come,  until  the  great  Creator  of  your 
being  shall  bring  you  all  safe  into  His  everlasting 
kingdom." 

St.  Augustine's  Day  is  kept  on  May  the  26th,  in 
the  bright  spring-time,  and  all  our  associations 
connected  with  this  saint,  and  the  early  days  of 
47 


THE    MARGUERITE   OR   DAISY 

the  revival  of  Christianity  in  England,  lead  us 
to  the  beginning  of  the  year  and  the  fresh  spring 
flowers  that  rose  from  the  chilly  earth  to  welcome 
him  to  our  shores. 

Dante  also  loves  the  spring.  His  thought  of 
heaven  is  of  an  ever-enduring  springtide,  and  he 
speaks  of  the  flowers  he  saw  in  Paradise, 

"...  that  with  still  opening  buds 
In  this  eternal  springtide  blossom  fair," 

"...   che  cosi  germoglia 
In  questa  primavera  sempiterna,"1 

as  a  dream  of  perpetual  renaissance. 

In  our  calendars  of  the  saints  there  are  no  less 
than  six  St.  Margarets ;  and  by  popular  tradition 
the  marguerite  is  supposed  to  be  dedicated  to  one 
of  these.  <  The  saint  whose  special  day  is  kept  in 
the  blooming  of  the  moon-daisies,  July  20th,  the 
St.  Margaret  of  the  Dragon,  was  the  daughter  of 
a  heathen  priest  of  Antioch.  When  she  embraced 
Christianity,  her  father  drove  her  from  his  house, 
and  she  retired  to  the  cottage-home  of  her  foster- 
mother  in  the  country,  and  there  lived  until 
her  martyrdom,  doing  simple  duties  —  like  the 
simple  daisy — with  her  face  ever  turned  heaven- 
ward. 

The  daisy  of  St.   Margaret — the   daisy  conse- 

1  Par.  xxviii.  115. 
48 


THE   MARGUERITE   OR   DAISY 

crated  to  innocence  and  childhood — Dante  passes 
over ;  but  to  the  marguerite  which  is  a  star — the 
daisy  glorified,  innocence  restored  after  the  dark 
wood  of  experience  has  been  traversed — he  re- 
curs with  ever-increasing  joy. 


49 


THE     IVY 

"...   Ivy  ne'er  clasped 
A  doddered  oak,  as  round  the  other's  limbs 
The  hideous  monster  intertwined  his  own." 

"  Ellera  abbarbicata  mai  non  fue 
Ad  arbor  si,  come  l'orribil  fiera 
Per  1'altrui  membra  avviticchio  le  sue." 

Inferno.  XX  v.  58. 

IVY — in  Greek  Kissos,  the  name  of  the  infant 
Bacchus — was  dedicated  to  that  god,  and 
used  in  bacchanalian  revels  equally  with  the  vine. 
Its  property,  however,  was  opposed  to  the 
inebriating  effects  of  intoxicating  liquors,  and  in 
the  Middle  Ages  a  concoction  of  ivy-berries  taken 
beforehand  was  supposed  to  prevent  the  possi- 
bility of  intoxication  at  a  midnight  carouse.  The 
ivy-bush  outside  taverns  was  placed  there  with 
this  idea ;  and  a  favourite  experiment  was  to 
drink  wine  in  an  ivy  cup,  the  ivy  being  thought 
to  have  so  great  an  antipathy  to  wine  as  to 
5o 


THE   IVY 

separate  it  from  the  water,  which  immediately 
soaked  through  the  cup,  leaving  only  the  wine 
behind. 

There  was  a  generally  received  opinion  in  the 
Middle  Ages  that  ivy  was  a  favourable  plant  of 
good  omen  ;  it  was  used  in  the  decoration  of 
churches,  and  a  mediaeval  carol  runs  thus — 

"  Ivy  is  soft  and  meke  of  speech, 
Ageynst  all  bale  she  is  blisse : 
Well  is  he  that  may  hyre  rech 
Veni  Coronaberis  ! 

"  Ivy  berythe  berries  black  : 
God  grant  us  all  His  blisse — 
For  there  shall  we  nothing  lack 
Veni  Coronaberis ! " 

Dante  uses  the  ivy  only  as  a  simile  of  a  clinging 
and  tenacious  plant,  and  if  there  was  any  special 
legendary  association  in  his  mind  connected  with 
it,  it  was  probably  only  as  applied  to  the  bacchan- 
alian feasts  of  the  ancients.  Still,  the  following 
little  story  in  connection  with  his  native  city 
seems  to  find  a  suitable  place  here. 

On  the  walls  of  an  ancient  convent  some  miles 
out  of  Florence  the  ivy  had  grown  continually  for 
centuries.  A  tradition  had  arisen  that  should  the 
ivy  cease  to  cling  around  a  certain  patriarchal 
tree  in  the  monastic  garden,  the  walls  of  the 
monastery  would  also  be  divested  of  their 
5i 


THE   IVY 

covering,  and  the  whole  place  would  fall  to 
ruins. 

It  happened  about  the  twelfth  century  that  a 
terrible  pestilence  raged  in  the  neighbourhood, 
but  the  rules  of  this  special  monastic  order  pro- 
hibited the  brothers  from  relaxing  their  regular 
routine  of  discipline  and  study,  even  to  render 
assistance  to  the  sick  and  dying  around  them. 
Many  acts  of  heroism  were  indeed  performed  by 
individual  members  of  the  community  in  their 
short  hours  of  relaxation,  but  no  regular  system  of 
attendance  or  hospital  care  was  instituted. 

The  story  relates  that  one  day  a  plague-stricken 
family  presented  themselves  at  the  gates  of  the 
monastery  and  demanded  admittance.  They  were 
told  that  they  might  repair  to  the  gardens, 
where  food  would  presently  be  brought  to  them, 
and  remain  for  shelter  in  one  of  the  summer- 
houses  or  arbours  if  they  wished,  but  that  it  was 
the  hour  for  prayer,  and  no  brother  could  be 
spared  to  attend  to  them  at  the  moment. 

The  wretched  family  dragged  themselves  into 
the  beautiful  gardens,  brilliant  with  summer 
flowers  in  full  bloom  ;  but  no  one  appealing  for 
a  full  hour  to  relieve  them,  they  cursed  the 
monastery  and  all  its  inmates,  the  flowers,  the 
fountains,  and  the  sunny  lawns,  since  there  were 
no  beds  where  they  could  stretch  their  fevered 
52 


THE   IVY 

limbs  to  die  in  peace,  refreshed  by  the  sacred 
offices  of  the  Church.  One  of  the  men,  who  still 
had  strength  to  wield  an  axe,  cut  the  famous  ivy 
stem,  whose  tradition  was  well  known  in  the 
neighbourhood,  through,  to  the  bark  of  the  tree 
it  encircled,  and  then  sank  down  on  the  ground 
at  its  foot,  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  tardy 
brothers. 

When  at  length,  prayer  being  over,  the  monks 
arrived  upon  the  scene,  such  assistance  as  they 
could  render  was  immediately  given  to  the  un- 
invited guests ;  but  the  ravages  of  the  pitiless 
plague  had  already  reached  a  stage  beyond  human 
remedy,  and  before  night  death  had  relieved 
the  unfortunate  visitors  one  and  all  from  their 
sufferings. 

The  following  morning  great  was  the  con- 
sternation of  the  prior  and  all  the  inmates  of  the 
monastery  to  find  the  ancient  ivy  tree  withering 
upon  its  stem  and  cut  through  to  the  root.  A 
presentiment  of  coming  misfortune  seized  the 
whole  community,  and  the  aged  father,  calling  all 
the  brothers  of  the  order  around  him,  said,  "  My 
sons,  we  have  failed  in  our  duty  to  man,  whilst 
too  eagerly  aspiring  to  join  with  the  angels  in  the 
worship  of  heaven.  Did  not  our  Blessed  Lord 
Himself  command  us  to  render  service  to  the 
least  of  these  His  brethren,  saying  that  He  would 
53 


THE  IVY 

count  it  as  rendered  to  Himself?  From  this  time 
the  hours  of  prayer  will  give  place  to  the  urgent 
necessity  of  nursing  our  plague-stricken  neigh- 
bours, and  may  the  blessing  of  God  accompany 
our  efforts." 

From  this  time  the  brothers  gave  themselves 
up  zealously  to  nursing  and  good  works,  and  great 
assistance  was  rendered  to  the  poor  by  the  now 
devoted  ministrants  from  the  monastery.  The 
plague  ran  its  destructive  course,  and  by  degrees 
penetrated  to  the  cells  where  the  brothers  knelt 
at  night  in  prayer.  One  by  one  they  succumbed 
to  its  virulent  attacks,  and  at  length  not  one 
remained  alive  of  the  former  occupants  of  the 
ancient  monastery.  Decay  invaded  its  precincts. 
The  ivy  on  its  walls  withered,  and  at  the  present 
day  picturesque  ruins  beautifully  situated  in  still 
luxuriant  gardens  are  all  that  remain  to  tell  the 
tale  of  former  splendour. 


54 


THE     CROWN     IMPERIAL 

"Yellow  lilies  .        " 

"  I  gigli  gialli  ..." 

Par.  vi.  ioo. 

WHEN  the  drooping  head  of  the  tufted 
crown  imperial  is  raised,  five  brightly 
shining  drops  of  water  may  be  seen  within  the 
cup  of  the  flower,  hanging  like  tear-drops  around 
the  centre. 

The  crown  imperial  grows  stiffly  and  upright, 
and  the  curious  tuft  at  the  top  suggests  the  fancy 
that  at  one  time  the  flowers  grew  with  their 
brilliant  flame  or  sulphur  coloured  petals  turned 
upwards  to  greet  the  morning  sunshine,  instead 
of,  as  now,  drooping  around  their  stem. 

When  our  Saviour  was  crucified,  and  darkness 

fell  over  the  earth,  all  the  flowers  bowed  their 

heads  that  they  might  not  behold  the  terrible 

deed.     Only   the  crown   imperial   remained   up- 

55 


THE   CROWN   IMPERIAL 

right,  gazing  proudly  at  the  sky,  until  an  angel 
came  down,  and,  touching  its  haughty  head  with 
trembling  fingers,  dropped  tears  upon  its  flaunting 
petals. 

From  that  time  the  crown  imperial  has  ever 
bowed  its  head,  overcome  with  remorse  and 
sorrow,  and  the  angel's  tears  are  renewed  con- 
tinually in  its  drooping  calyx. 

All  lilies  that  bow  their  graceful  heads  in  every 
country  are  dear  to  Dante.  He  mentions  them 
again  and  again  in  every  variety,  from  the  "  yellow 
lilies  "  of  the  royal  standard  of  France,  to  the 
white  wild  lilies  of  the  meadow. 

The  crucifixion  of  Christ  is  also  a  subject  very 
near  to  the  heart  of  Dante.     He  says — 

"Earth  trembled  at  it,  and  the  heaven  was  opened." 
"Per  lei  tremo  la  terra,  e'l  ciel  s'aperse."1 

And  he  speaks  often  of  the  sufferings  that  our 
Lord  underwent  to  gain  that  fair  Bride,  the 
Church,  "  Who  with  the  lance  and  nails  was  won," 
"  Che  s'acquisto  con  la  lancia,  e  co'chiavi, " 2 
and  of  the  "  blest  limbs  that  were  nail'd  upon  the 
wood." 3  The  lily  of  the  crown  imperial  is  the 
flower  that   carries  us   back    in    memory  to    the 

1  Par.  vii.  48  (trans.  Longfellow). 

2  Par.  xxxii.  129.  3  Par.  xix.  105. 

56 


THE   CROWN   IMPERIAL 

darkness  and  suffering  of  the  death  of  Christy  as 
its  sister,  the  white  lily  of  St.  Catherine,  raises 
our  thoughts  to  the  beauty  and  purity  of  the 
heaven  that  was  opened  to  us  through  earthquake 
and  pain. 

In  one  of  his  outbursts  of  indignation  at  some 
of  the  errors  of  the  Church,  Dante  makes  Beatrice 
complain  that  legends  were  told  in  the  Florentine 
pulpits  more  freely  than  the  gospel  was  preached 
there. 

"  One  tells  how  at  Christ's  suffering  the  wan  moon 
Bent  back  her  steps,  and  shadowed  o'er  the  sun 
With  inter venient  disk  .    .  .  "x 

Yet  in  spite  of  his  complaints  of  this,  and  other 
uncertainly  authenticated  tales,  a  curious  glimpse 
is  afforded  us  into  the  complex  character  of  the 
man,  when  we  find  him  using  nearly  the  same 
symbolism  himself  in  another  canto,  where  he 
places  the  mystic  eclipse  in  heaven,  instead  of  on 
earth,  and  makes  Beatrice  and  all  the  heavenly 
host  lose  splendour  and  light  with  sympathetic 
indignation  at  St.  Peter's  description  of  the 
corruption  of  the  Church. 

"And  such  eclipse  in  heaven  methinks  was  seen 
When  the  Most  Holy  suffered  !  " 

"E  tale  eclissi  credo  che  in  ciel  fue, 
Quando  pati  la  suprema  Possanzal"2 

1  Par.  xxix.  97.  2  Par.  xxvii.  35, 

57 


THE     RUSH 

"  Go  therefore  now,  and  with  a  slender  reed 
See  that  thou  duly  gird  him,  and  his  face 
Lave,  till  all  sordid  stain  thou  wipe  from  thence." 

"  Va  dunque,  e  fa  che  tu  costui  ricinghe 
D*un  giunco  schietto,  e  che  gli  lavi'l  viso, 
Si  ch'  ogni  sucidume  quindi  stinghe." 

Purg  i.  94. 

THE  flowering  rush  is  Butomus  umbellatus. 
The  classical  fable  of  the  transformation 
of  the  young  shepherd  Acis  into  a  river,  on 
whose  banks  the  flowering  rush  first  appeared, 
was  probably  known  to  Dante.  The  sea-nymph 
Galatea  was  beloved  by  Acis,  but  the  Cyclops, 
Polyphemus,  also  loved  her,  so  hurled  a  broken 
piece  of  rock  at  Acis  and  slew  him.  From  the 
rock  that  had  crushed  him  a  river  issued  forth,  and 
from  the  blood  of  Acis  arose  many  new  kinds  of 
river  flowers  and  reeds. 

"  The  stone  was  cleft,  and  through  the  yawning  chink 
New  reeds  arose  on  the  new  river's  brink." 

58 


THE   RUSH 

Yet  to  Dante  the  rush,  like  nearly  every 
flower  or  leaf  he  mentions,  has  a  mystic  and 
spiritual  significance,  and  he  uses  it  in  the  passage 
quoted  above  as  an  emblem  of  humility. 

This  plant  seems  to  have  a  peculiar  significance, 
since  it  is  the  first  green  object,  cool  and  fresh, 
emerging  from  the  lucid  water,  that  greets 
Dante's  eyes  when  he  steps  forth  from  the  dark 
abyss  of  the  Inferno  into  the  less  gloomy  regions 
of  Purgatorio,  whence  he  is  to  be  led  eventu- 
ally to  the  beautiful  garden  of  the  Earthly 
Paradise,  as  a  preparation  for  the  greater  glories 
of  heaven. 

The  garden  of  the  Earthly  Paradise  will  be  gay 
with  flowers,  but  on  his  first  entry  into  Purgatorio, 
where  punishment  is  yet  to  be  endured,  no 
flowei's  or  bright  colours  greet  his  eyes.  The 
cool  green  rush,  with  which  it  is  commanded 
that  he  shall  be  girt,  and  the  sight  of  water 
— the  distant  trembling  of  the  ocean — and  the 
air  of  the  upper  world,  cause  him  sufficient  joy 
and  relief. 

He  explains  clearly  the  meaning  of  the  rush  in 
the  passage  where  he  tells  us  that  no  other  plant 
but  one  of  a  humble  and  bending  nature  could 
stand  the  flow  of  the  water,  no  plant 

"...  hardened  in  its  stalk 
There  lives,  not  bending  to  the  water's  sway." 

59 


THE   RUSH 

Dante  has  a  particular  feeling  and  appreciation 
for  the  beauties  of  a  river's  bank,  and  some  of  the 
passages  where  he  describes  a  running  stream 
are  so  full  of  close  and  graceful  observation  of 
nature  as  to  lead  to  the  idea  that  they  may 
have  been  written  on  the  shores  of  a  stream, 
within  sight  of  the  little  islet  on  whose  oozy 
bank,  where  the  wave  beats  it,  stores  of  rushes 
grow,  or  possibly  from  some  loving  memory  of 
his  boyhood. 

Later,  when  he  reaches  the  Earthly  Paradise, 
again  his  steps  are 

"  Bounded  by  a  rill,  which  to  the  left 
With  little  rippling  waters  bent  the  grass 
That  issued  from  its  brink  ..." 

This  is  the  river  Lethe,  and  he  describes  gazing 
across  its  banks  to  a  level  meadow  filled  with 
flowers  on  the  opposite  shore,  as  only  one 
could  describe  it  to  whom  the  scene  was  a 
reality  and  no  dream ;  the  transparency  of  the 
water  and  the  brown  colour  it  takes  from  the 
shadow  of  the  trees  overhead  are  most  true  to 
nature.  In  Dante's  garden  a  little  river  ever 
flows  "bruna,  bruna,"  beneath  the  dark  shade 
of  the  overhanging  foliage,  and  on  its  banks 
the  varying  tints  of  May  make  perpetual  spring- 
tide. 

60 


THE   RUSH 

When  heaven  at  length  is  reached,  the  shadows 
disappear,  and  here 

"...   I  looked, 
And  in  the  likeness  of  a  river,  saw 
Light  flowing,  from  whose  amber-seeming  waves 
Flashed  up  effulgence,  as  they  glided  on 
'Twixt  banks  on  either  side  painted  with  Spring 
Incredible  how  fair  ;  and  from  the  tide 
There  ever  and  anon,  outstarting,  flew 
Sparkles  instinct  with  life ;  and  in  the  flowers 
Did  set  them,  like  to  rubies  chased  in  gold." 

"E  vidi  lume  in  forma  di  riviera 
Fulvido  di  fulgore,  intra  due  rive 
Dipinte  di  mirabil  primavera. 
Di  tal  fiumana  uscian  faville  vive, 
E  d'ogni  parte  si  mettean  ne'  fiori, 
Quasi  rubini,  ch'  oro  circonscrive." 

Par.  xxx.  61. 


Ci 


THE     VIOLET 

"...  A  hue  more  faint  than  rose, 
And  deeper  than  the  violet  .         " 

"Men  che  di  rose,  e  piu  che  di  viole." 

Purg.  xxxii.  58. 

"  "JV  IT  ORE  faint  than  rose,  and  deeper  than 
XV  J.  the  violet  I"1  Dante  is  speaking  in 
this  place  of  the  colour  that  the  tree  of  know- 
ledge assumed,  when  it  suddenly  burst  into 
flower,  in  one  of  his  visions  in  the  Terrestrial 
Paradise.  The  word  " deeper"  signifies  less 
ethereal,  with  more  of  the  life-colour,  rose  or 
red,  blended  with  the  blue.  He  describes  the 
glorious  colour  of  the  sky  at  sunrise,  less  than 
roses,  and  more  than  violet ;  the  rose-colour  of 
the  apple-blossom,  slowly  growing  against  the 
blue  of  the  sky,  upon  a  leafless  tree ;  the  colour 
of  the  thickening  shoots,  pale  mauve  in  spring, 
when  a  faint  blue  mist  rises,  and  half-conceals 
the  close,  slender  twigs  at  the  top  of  the  trees ; 
1  See  p.  64. 
62 


THE   VIOLET 

or  the  colour  of  the  sunset,  when  pink  floods  the 
blue  of  the  darkening  heaven. 

Dante  gazes,  enrapt,  at  this  vision  of  colour, 
and,  slowly,  unearthly  music  possesses  his  senses. 
He  hears  a  hymn  of  such  rare  harmony  as  never 
yet  was  sung  by  mortal  voices.  It  seems  to  him 
to  blend  into  the  perfect  colour.  The  violet 
notes  of  multitudinous  vibration  are  too  ethereal 
to  be  retained  by  mortal  senses,  and,  unable  to 
endure  it  to  the  end,  he  sinks  into  a  deep 
slumber. 

Though  it  is  certain  that  Dante  of  the  thir- 
teenth century  could  not  have  known  definitely 
the  theory  of  colour  and  vibration,  yet  it  is  a  curious 
instance  of  the  prophetic  instinct,  nay,  inspiration, 
of  the  true  poet,  which  leads  him  to  dream  of 
music  blended  into  the  rich  vibrating  tints  of 
violet  light,  and  thus  to  agree  with  Mendelssohn, 
who  in  later  years  held  that  violet  is  the  supreme 
colour  of  music. 

Certain  pulsations  in  the  ether  produce  a  faint 
appearance  of  colour,  as  the  harmonies  of  music 
are  produced  by  vibration,  and  if  we  could  arrive 
at  the  highest  and  purest  notes  beyond  the 
regions  of  human  perception,  where  only  dream- 
spirits  could  follow  us,  we  should  be  landed  in  a 
heaven  of  colour,  "men  che  di  rose,  e  piu  che 
di  viole." 

63 


THE   VIOLET 

Mendelssohn,  the  most  poetical  of  musicians, 
adopting  this  idea,  playfully  called  his  highest- 
stringed  instrument,  "the  Violet,"  pretending 
that  with  it  he  could  scale  the  regions  where 
sound  and  colour  meet. 

The  violet  is  dedicated  to  Orpheus  with  his 
lute,  and  the  legend  also  leads  us  into  a  realm  of 
music.  Dante  only  mentions  Orpheus  once  in 
his  Divina  Commedia,  and  then  it  is  to  place  him 
in  Limbo  as  an  unbaptized  soul,  in  company  with 
many  other  poets  and  heroes  of  old. 

When  Orpheus,  with  his  lute,  charmed  all  the 
birds  and  beasts,  and  woods  and  mountains,  the 
flowers  also  arose,  and  danced  in  a  magic  circle 
round  him.  And  when  he  sank  down,  wearied, 
upon  a  bank  to  sleep,  upon  the  spot  where  his 
enchanted  lute  had  fallen  there  sprang  into  bloom 
the  first  violet,  which,  though  the  embodiment  of 
purest  music,  yet  is  for  ever  mute,  and  nestles 
down  amidst  its  leaves,  listening  to  the  ever- 
lasting harmonies  of  Nature. 

Footnote  to  p.  62. 
Ruskin,  Mod.  Painters,  iii.  226,  says  with  regard  to  the 
colour  described  by  Dante:  "The  exact  hue  is  that  of  the 
apple-blossom."  ...  "By  taking  the  rose-leaf  as  a  type  of 
the  delicate  red,  and  then  enfeebling  this  with  the  violet- 
grey,  he  gets  as  closely  as  language  can  carry  him  to  the 
complete  rendering  of  the  vision." 

64 


THE     FIG     TREE 

"...  For  amongst  ill-savoured  crabs 
It  suits  not  the  sweet  fig  tree  lay  her  fruit." 

"...   Che  tra  li  lazzi  sorbi 
Si  disconvien  fruttare  al  dolce  fico. " 

Inferno,  XV.   65. 

IN  the  context  of  the  quotation  given  above, 
Dante  makes  his  master,  Latini,  speak 
somewhat  bitterly  of  the  way  his  pupil's  work 
will  probably  be  received  by  his  contemporaries  ; 
though  he  also  makes  him  say — 

••  If  thou  follow  but  thy  star, 
Thou  canst  not  miss  at  last  a  glorious  haven." 

Dante  did  indeed  "  follow  his  star,"  and  reached 
a  fame  which  has  not  been  dimmed  by  five 
intervening  centuries. 

This  is  not  his  only  mention  of  the  fig  tree,  as 
in  a  later  canto  of  the  Inferno  he  alludes  to  an 
E  65 


THE    FIG  TREE 

Italian  proverb,  "A  date  for  a  tig,"  meaning  that 
every  man  will  receive  a  due  reward  of  his 
works. 

The  fig  tree,  sweet  and  nourishing  for  food,  has 
many  associations  in  biblical  parable  and  ancient 
story.  In  the  East  it  is  an  emblem  of  home  and 
plenty.  Like  the  vine  upon  the  walls  of  a  man's 
house,  the  fig  tree  in  his  garden  suggests  prolific 
harvests  and  general  prosperity,  and  the  wither- 
ing of  a  fig  tree  has  always  been  supposed  to  be 
a  sign  of  a  coming  blight  in  a  man's  fortunes. 

A  late  traveller  in  Afghanistan,  on  his  return  to 
India,  happened  to  encounter  an  Afghan  chief, 
whom  he  had  known  in  his  travels  in  the  North. 

In  order  to  remind  the  Afghan  of  their  former 
intercourse,  he  asked  of  his  well  -  being,  and 
reminded  him  of  the  little  house  "under  the 
fig  tree"  where  he  had  so  kindly  entertained 
him  some  years  before. 

The  chief's  face  fell,  and  in  the  simple  phrase, 
"  the  fig  tree  is  withered,"  informed  his  friend  of 
his  loss  of  fortune,  and  how,  since  their  meeting, 
his  home  had  broken  up  and  his  family  had  been 
scattered. 

In  Italy,  too,  the  fig  tree  is  regarded  as  an 

emblem   of  prosperity ;    and   in   the   use   Dante 

makes  of  it,  saying   that   it   ill-suits   the   sweet 

fig  tree  to  lay  her  fruit  among  wild  crabs,  there 

66 


THE    FIG  TREE 

is  a  pathetic  allusion  to  his  loss  of  home  and  the 
writing  of  his  great  work  on  alien  soil. 

The  fig  tree  has  been  known  to  live  to  an 
extraordinary  age.  There  are  many  fig  trees 
famous  for  then'  life  of  centuries,  and  the  fruit 
is  not  supposed  to  deteriorate  but  rather  improve 
with  the  age  of  the  tree. 

On  the  shores  of  the  Adriatic  are  many  places 
celebrated  for  their  wonderful  figs.  A  curious 
tale  is  told  of  one,  which,  like  the  submerged 
forest  of  Chiassi,  may  be  seen  at  clear  tides 
beneath  the  sea.  The  fishermen  say  that  if  a 
man  could  dive  and  obtain  a  fig  from  this  tree 
he  would  see  a  vision  of  the  end  of  the  world. 
The  tree  is  supposed  to  have  grown  on  rocky 
ground  some  distance  from  the  coast,  and  during 
a  volcanic  eruption  to  have  been  submerged,  and 
only  discovered  many  years  after  by  a  belated 
fisherman  on  a  clear  summer  night.  He  was 
rowing  home  over  the  pellucid  waters  of  the 
Adriatic,  tired  after  a  long  day's  fishing,  when 
he  perceived  a  white  seagull,  or  some  miraculous 
white  bird,  continually  diving  over  a  certain  spot 
in  the  sea  not  far  distant  from  his  boat.  At 
length  the  bird,  after  many  apparently  futile 
attempts,  came  up  to  the  surface  of  the  water 
with  something  round  in  its  beak,  and  the  fisher- 
man, overcome  with  curiosity,  determined  to 
67 


THE   FIG  TREE 

ascertain  what  this  might  be.  He  decoyed  the 
bird  by  throwing  fish  after  fish  into  the  sea  on  the 
farther  side  of  his  boat,  and  as  the  bird,  attracted 
by  the  glistening  scales  of  the  fish,  turned  to  dive 
for  them,  it  dropped  the  round  object  into  the 
water.  The  fisherman  speedily  possessed  himself 
of  it,  and  on  examining  it  discovered  it  to  be  a 
fig  of  a  remarkably  large  size,  ripe  and  luscious. 
He  rowed  to  the  spot  where  the  bird  had 
been  diving,  and  perceived  beneath  the  water 
a  magnificent  fig  tree  laden  with  fruit.  Sea 
anemones  and  star  fish  had  made  their  homes  in 
its  branches,  and  red  and  white  coral  adorned  its 
roots.  He  tasted  the  fig,  and  instantly  fell  into 
a  trance,  in  which  state  he  was  taken  by  an  angel 
and  shown  a  miraculous  vision,  in  which  it  was 
revealed  to  him  that  at  the  end  of  the  world  the 
souls  of  the  blest  would  find  themselves  on  an 
island  in  the  centre  of  the  Adriatic,  where  they 
would  await  a  final  consummation  of  events. 
The  world  appeared  to  him  coated  with  an 
awful  covering  of  ice  and  snow.  No  trees, 
plants,  or  life  of  any  kind  remained  upon  it. 
The  rivers  were  frozen,  and  even  the  sea  no 
longer  washed  its  icy  coasts  ;  only  on  the  glorious 
island  and  in  the  Adriatic  all  was  as  usual.  The 
sun  rose  daily  in  the  east,  the  sunset  dyed  the 
heavens  with  brilliant  colours,  and  the  clear  waters 
6S 


THE    FIG  TREE 

washed  its  shores.  The  island  was  supported 
upon  the  branches  of  the  submerged  fig  tree, 
and  as  the  chill  of  the  frozen  world  sent  an 
occasional  icy  blast  over  its  waving  foliage,  he 
perceived  that  it  slowly  rose  from  the  waters 
and  was  received  into  Paradise  with  all  its 
inhabitants. 

The  fisherman,  overcome  with  amazement, 
recovered  from  his  swoon  to  find  his  boat  still 
rocking  upon  the  clear  waves  of  the  Adriatic,  a 
brilliant  moon  overhead,  and  the  night  far 
advanced.  Delighted  at  discovering  the  world 
still  as  he  had  left  it,  and  the  warm  Southern 
breeze  fanning  his  cheeks,  he  rowed  home,  and 
afterwards  spent  many  weeks  trying  to  discover 
the  wonderful  island  of  his  vision.  Neither  it 
nor  the  fig  tree  has  ever  been  seen  since,  but  this 
story  is  a  favourite  tradition  amongst  the  fisher- 
men of  the  neighbourhood,  and  sometimes  a 
fisher-lad  will  come  home  and  excuse  the  paucity 
of  his  catch  by  saying,  "  I  saw  and  followed  the 
white  bird,  but  discovered  nothing,  and  have 
come  home  with  neither  fig  nor  fish." 


69 


THE     PINE 

"...  From  branch  to  branch 
Along  the  piny  forests  on  the  shore 
Of  Chiassi,  rolls  the  gathering  melody 
When  Eolus  hath  from  his  cavern  loosed 
The  southern  winds  ..." 

".  .  .  Di  ramo  in  ramo  si  raccoglie 
Per  la  pineta  in  sul  lito  di  Chiassi, 
Quand  Eolo  Scirocco  fuor  discioglie." 

Purg.  xxviii.   19. 

DANTE  says  that  in  the  early  morning,  as  he 
wandered  in  the  wood  which  led  to  the 
Terrestrial  Paradise,  the  little  birds  were  all 
twittering  to  welcome  dawn  in  the  tops  of  the 
trees,  and  the  rustling  of  the  morning  wind 
amongst  the  leaves  "made  a  burden  to  their 
song."  He  compares  the  rustling  of  the  wind  to 
the  wonderful  sound — only  to  be  realised  by  those 
who  have  heard  it — of  a  heavy  wind  in  a  large 
forest  extending  over  many  miles  of  country,  as 
he  had  himself  heard  it  during  his  stay  with 
70 


THE   PINE 

Guido  da  Polenta  in  the  limitless  pine  woods  of 
Chiassi. 

The  sound  is  extraordinary.  An  Eolian  harp 
playing  wild  melodies  mingled  with  the  soft 
brooding  tone  of  an  under-harmony,  gathering  in 
intensity  in  the  far  distance  of  the  inner  forest, 
would  make  a  wonderful  "  burden  "  to  the  happy 
wakening  shrill  twitter  of  the  little  feathered 
denizens  of  the  woods  ;  and  the  soul  of  the  poet 
Dante  would  strangely  respond  to  the  depths  of 
Nature's  passion,  underlying  the  simple  joy  of 
mere  existence  in  her  children. 

The  pine  tree,  with  its  stately  height  and  re- 
sinous fragrance,  shares  with  the  fir  many  ancient 
traditions.  A  legend  of  Sicily  records  that  the 
Saviour  and  His  mother  on  their  flight  into  Egypt 
were  saved  from  Herod's  soldiers  by  taking  refuge 
in  the  shelter  of  a  pine,  which  miraculously 
opened  and  formed  walls  around  them  until  the 
danger  was  passed.  The  infant  Saviour  raised 
His  hand  to  bless  the  tree,  and  from  that  time 
the  form  of  a  hand  has  always  been  apparent  in 
the  interior  of  the  fruit,  when  cut  straight  through. 
For  this  reason  the  Sicilians  hold  the  pine  cone 
in  great  reverence. 

Dante  mentions  a  pine  cone  in  the  31st 
canto  of  the  Inferno,  when  he  speaks  of  the  large 
bronze  pine  "  that  tops  St.  Peter's  Roman  fane," 
71 


THE    PINE 

which  once  ornamented  the  mole  of  Adrian,  and 
being  cast  down  by  lightning,  was  placed  on  the 
belfry  of  St.  Peter's  Church. 

A  wreath  of  pine  was  a  reward  in  the  Isthmian 
games,  and  Ovid  crowns  his  fauns  with  pine. 
This  tree  is  dedicated  in  classical  story  to  Cybele 
(or  Rhea),  the  mother  of  the  gods.  Rhea  loved 
Atys,  a  Phrygian  shepherd,  and  gave  to  him  the 
care  of  her  temple  in  order  that  he  might  live  in 
celibacy  and  serve  her.  Atys,  unfortunately,  fell 
in  love  with  a  nymph  of  the  woods  ;  and  Rhea, 
infuriated  with  jealousy,  changed  him  into  a  pine 
tree,  under  whose  shade  she  sat  and  mourned, 
until  Jupiter,  to  console  her,  decreed  that  the 
tree  should  always  remain  green. 

Ovid  says — 

"To  Rhea  grateful  still  the  pine  remains, 
For  Atys  still  some  favour  she  retains. 
He  once  in  human  shape  her  breast  had  warmed, 
And  now  is  cherished  as  a  tree  transformed  !  " 


72 


THE     PASSION     FLOWER 

"  One  tells  how  at  Christ's  suffering  the  wan  moon 
Bent  back  her  steps,  and  shadowed  o'er  the  sun 
With  intervenient  disk,  as  she  withdrew." 

*'  Un  dice,  chela  Luna  si  ritorse 
Nella  passion  di  Cristo,  e  s'interpose, 
Per  che'l  lume  del  Sol  giu  non  si  porse. " 

Par.  xxix.  97. 

WHEN  Dante  uses  the  word  " passion"  in 
connection  with  Christ,  he  uses  it  to 
express  our  Lord's  sufferings  on  the  cross  ;  and  in 
this  way  the  word  has  been  commonly  employed 
in  the  title  of  the  passion  flower,  which  the  legend 
tells  us  climbed  the  cross  and  spread  its  tendrils 
round  the  spots  where  the  nails  had  been  driven 
through  the  hands  and  feet  of  our  Blessed  Lord. 

The  passion  flower  is  dedicated  to  St.  Francis  of 

Assisi,  or  rather  to  his  bride,  Dame  Poverty.     In 

many  of  our   lonely  country  places  it  is  always 

called    the    "poor  flower."      Indeed,    this   is   its 

73 


THE   PASSION   FLOWER 

genera]  name  amongst  the  unlettered  and  fast- 
dying-out  generation  of  those  who  keep  alive  the 
ancient  legends  hy  the  unfailing  traditions  handed 
down  from  mouth  to  mouth  amongst  the  people. 

The  countryman  cuts  its  straggling  sprays  away 
from  the  sunny  side  of  his  cottage  porch,  and 
trains  its  delicate  tendrils.  He  looks  curiously  at 
the  flower,  and  sees  the  nails,  the  hammer,  the 
soldier's  lance,  the  five  wound-prints,  and  the 
crown  of  thorns  all  clearly  marked  upon  its  face, 
and  lifts  the  long  tendrils  that  recall  to  him  the 
ropes  with  which  our  Saviour  was  bound.  But 
when  his  child  asks  him  its  name,  he  does  not 
call  it  the  "passion  flower,"  but  the  "poor 
flower,"  and  thus  recalls,  unconsciously,  its  later 
story,  connected  with  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  and  his 
bride  Dame  Poverty,  and  the  little  wood  where 
St.  Francis  had  so  many  of  his  marvellous  visions, 
when  rapt  away  in  ecstatic  communion  with 
heaven. 

In  one  of  these  visions  St.  Francis  saw  his 
bride,  the  Lady  Poverty,  standing  beneath  a 
luminous  apparition  of  the  cross,  and  as  he  beheld 
her  she  stretched  her  arms  upwards,  and  gradually 
became  transformed  into  the  image  of  a  passion 
flower,  that  grew  up  the  stem  and  twined  round 
the  arms  of  the  cross,  covering  each  hole  caused 
by  the  nails  with  a  gleaming  blossom. 
74 


THE   PASSION   FLOWER 

St.  Francis  loved  the  passion  flower,  as  he 
loved  his  bride,  Dame  Poverty,  and  after  his 
death  it  was  always  associated  with  his  name. 

Dante,  to  whom  all  these  ancient  stories  were 
familiar,  speaks  of  the  bride  of  St.  Francis  as 

"  The  dame  .  .   .  whom  Francis  did  make  his, 
Before  the  spiritual  court,  by  nuptial  bonds ; " 

and  doubtless  had  not   forgotten  the   legend  of 
the  passion  flower  when  he  adds — 

"  With  Christ  she  mounted  to  the  cross, 
While  Mary  stood  beneath." 

"...   Dove  Maria  rimase  giuso, 
Ella  con  Cristo  salse  in  sulla  croce."1 

Dante  stands  in  his  visionary  garden  before  the 
drooping  passion  flowers.  The  early  morning  dew 
yet  lies  upon  them,  and  he  dreams  of  Dame 
Poverty  and  the  flowers  that  twined  around  the 
cross. 

1  Par.  xi.  71. 


75 


THE     OAK 

"...  Good  beginnings  last  not 
From  the  oak's  birth,  unto  the  acorn's  setting." 

"  Che  gin  non  basta  buon  cominciamento 
Dal  nascer  della  quercia  al  far  la  ghianda." 

Par.  xxii.  86. 

DANTE  employs  the  oak  in  an  unusual  sense, 
original  and  unconventional.  He  does 
not  mention  it  as  an  emblem  of  strength  or 
enduring  power,  but  rather  as  he  had  gleaned 
impressions  of  it  from  his  readings  in  the  classics, 
where  it  is  continually  mentioned  as  the  mother 
of  mankind. 

He  is  speaking  of  the  weakness  of  human  reso- 
lution, and  it  seems  to  occur  to  him  as  an 
additional  reproach  that  born  of  so  stalwart  a 
parent  as  the  oak,  a  man  should  not  be  able  to 
make  his  good  resolutions  hold  out  from  the  oak's 
birth  even  to  the  bearing  of  its  first  acorn. 
76 


THE   OAK 

Virgil  speaks  of 

"  The  nymphs  and  fauns  and  savage  men  who  took 
Their  birth  from  trunks  of  trees  and  stubborn  oak."1 

And  Juvenal  in  his  sixth  Satire,  speaking  of  the 
beginning  of  the  world,  says  that  the  human  race 
were  formed  of  clay,  or  born  of  the  opening  oak. 

The  ancients  believed  that  as  the  oak  was  the 
progenitor  of  mankind,  so,  as  a  mother  sustains  her 
offspring  from  herself,  the  oak  was  bound  to  pro- 
vide food  and  nourishment  for  the  world.  Ovid 
tells  us  that  the  simple  food  of  the  primal  races 
consisted  of  acorns  dropping  from  the  tree  of 
Jove,  and  Homer  and  Hesiod  both  say  that  the 
acorn  was  the  common  food  of  the  Arcadians. 
In  Italy  and  Southern  Europe  the  primitive 
people  dwelling  in  forests  subsisted  almost  entirely 
upon  the  fruit  of  the  oak,  and  Dante,  looking 
upon  it  from  the  point  of  view  of  Italian  tradition, 
uses  it  as  a  type  of  growing  life,  and  a  parable  of 
time. 

Beneath  the  spreading  branches  of  the  oak  he 
seems  to  stand,  and  survey  life  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  philosopher  who  would  fain  base  his 
judgment  upon  the  earliest  beginnings  of  things. 
It  is  in  Paradise  where  this  simile  of  the  oak 
occurs  to  him,  where  human  nature  is  raised  and 

1  JEneid,  \iii.  314-15. 

77 


THE   OAK 

glorified, — where,  but  a  few  lines  farther  on,  he 
speaks  of  the  Holy  Triumph  to  which  he  hopes 
one  day  to  return, — that  he  seems  to  remember 
with  a  pitying  tenderness  the  early  ignorant 
fables  of  the  origin  of  human  life,  and  to  bewail 
the  degeneration  in  the  strength  of  human  will, 
since  the  days  when  the  early  stalwart  races  of  the 
world  imagined  that  they  took  their  origin  from 
the  mighty  oaks  of  primeval  forests. 


LEGENDS 

It  is  curious  to  note  how  the  old  Grecian  belief 
in  the  sacred  and  supernatural  character  of  the 
oak  has  lingered  in  Italy. 

Professor  de  Gubernatus  tells  us  that  only 
about  five-and-twenty  years  ago,  a  young  peasant 
girl  in  the  Campagna  of  Rome  sought  refuge 
beneath  an  oak  during  a  terrific  thunderstorm, 
and  prayed  to  the  Madonna  to  turn  the  lightning 
aside.  A  beautiful  lady  appeared  in  answer  to 
her  supplication,  and  stayed  with  her  whilst 
the  storm  lasted,  during  which  time  no  rain 
fell  upon  the  oak,  and  the  storm  seemed  to 
remove  itself  from  their  neighbourhood,  though 
they  could  see  it  raging  at  a  short  distance  round 
7S 


THE   OAK 

them.  This  miracle  was  reported  to  the  cure  of 
the  district,  who  examined  into  it,  and  arranged 
that  the  shepherdess  should  be  received  into  a 
convent,  where,  after  an  interval  of  preparation, 
she  was  eventually  canonised. 

A  story  of  the  same  kind  is  told  of  a  Tuscan 
shepherdess  two  centuries  earlier,  who  was 
canonised  under  the  name  of  Giovanna  di  Signa. 
In  the  district  of  Signa,  near  Genestra,  her  sacred 
oak  is  still  shown  by  the  villagers,  who  kneel  and 
adore  it.  According  to  the  legend,  it  sprang 
from  Giovanna's  crook,  which  she  drove  into  the 
ground  during  a  severe  storm,  calling  all  the 
shepherds  and  shepherdesses  who  were  out  with 
her  to  take  shelter  under  it.  A  little  chapel 
now  stands  on  this  spot,  and  the  oak  tree  over- 
shadowing it  has  the  miraculous  habit  of  throwing 
down  everyone  who  attempts  to  climb  it,  though 
it  will  permit  pious  people  to  cut  small  twigs, 
which  they  cany  home  to  their  houses  as  a 
protection  from  the  effects  of  storms,  provided  at 
the  same  time  they  call  on  the  name  of  their 
patron  saint  or  the  Blessed  Virgin. 

We  cannot  credit  Dante  with  a  knowledge  of 
these  later  traditions  about  the  oak,  but  from  the 
earliest  times,  when  Virgil  wrote  of  Jove's  tree, 
whose  roots  descended  to  the  infernal  regions,1 

1  Mne'id,  Book  iv. 

79 


THE    OAK 

tradition  and  legend  have  hovered  around  its 
hoary  trunk.  People  have  crept  through  to  cure 
themselves  of  diseases,  or  pegged  locks  of  their 
hair  to  "  cross-oaks  "  to  rid  themselves  of  ague, 
or  even  fed  their  horses  with  oak  buttons  in  order 
to  change  the  colour  of  their  coats,  and  supersti- 
tion has  played  riot  with  these  mighty  trees  from 
the  days  when  the  Dryads  and  Hamadryads  made 
them  their  homes. 

The  oak  has  certainly  a  place  in  Dante's 
garden,  and  lends  the  shelter  of  its  time-honoured 
traditions  to  the  many  graceful  flowers  of  poesy 
and  fancy  growing  around  its  mossy  roots. 


80 


SYRINX  AND  THE  REED 

"...   Had  I  the  skill 
To  pencil  forth  how  closed  the  unpitying  eyes 
Slumbering,   when  Syrinx  warbled  (eyes  that  paid 
So  dearly  for  their  watching)  ..." 

••  S'io  potessi  ritrar  come  assonnaro 
Gli  occhi  spietati,  udendo  di  Siringa, 
Gli  occhi,  a  cui  piu  vegghiar  costo  si  caro." 

Purg.  xxxii.  64. 

ONCE  more  on  the  shores  of  the  little  rill 
that    flows   through    Dante's    garden    we 
are  greeted  by  a  story  of  the  river  grasses. 

Syrinx  fled  from  Pan  to  the  river's  edge,  where 
she  was  changed  into  a  reed,  from  which  Pan 
made  his  pipes. 

Sometimes  at  night,  when  the  wind  rustles 
through  the  slender  reeds  sighing  in  the  water, 
one  can  fancy  that  a  faint  sound  of  music  stirs 
their  flute-like  stems.  Pan,  concealed  in  the 
scented  river-sedge,  is  playing  upon  his  pipes, 
f  8i 


SYRINX  AND  THE   REED 

and  awakening  the  echoes  of  the  night  with 
lamentations  for  his  lost  Syrinx. 

The  story  of  the  Syrinx  would  well  lend  itself 
to  song ;  and  Dante  mentions  it,  to  express  to  his 
readers  how  his  own  senses  became  sweetly  over- 
powei'ed,  and  he  sank  into  a  slumber,  as  Argos  did, 
when  Mercuiy  sang  him  to  sleep  with  the  legend 
of  the  Syrinx. 

Argos,  of  the  hundred  eyes,  had  been  given  the 
beautiful  nymph  Io  to  watch  and  keep,  and 
during  his  slumber  she  was  stolen  from  him.  So 
entrancing  was  Mercury's  song  about  Syrinx  that 
he  forgot  all  his  vigilance,  and  paid  dearly  for  his 
neglect  with  the  loss  of  his  eyes,  which  Juno 
placed  in  the  tail  of  her  favourite  peacock. 

Dante  alludes  to  this  double  story  at  the 
moment  when,  after  his  wondrous  vision  of  the 
tree  of  knowledge,  he  falls  into  a  deep  slumber, 
overcome  by  light,  colour,  music,  and  the  tense 
strain  of  interest.  He  says  that  if  he  had  the 
skill  to  portray  how  Argos  fell  asleep  listening  to 
the  story  of  the  Syrinx,  he  could  express,  "like 
painter  that  with  model  paints,"  l  the  manner  in 
which  his  own  mind  was  slowly  drawn  from  all 
present  things,  and  sweet  sleep  absorbed  the 
music  in  his  soul. 

1  Purg.  xxxii.  67. 
82 


APPLE-BLOSSOM 

"  The  blossoming  of  that  fair  tree,  whose  fruit 
Is  coveted  by  angels,  and  doth  make 
Perpetual  feast  in  heaven  ..." 

"...  Li   fioretti  del  melo, 
Che  del  suo  porno  gli  Angeli  fa  ghiotti 
E  perpetue  nozze  fa  nel  cielo." 

Purg.  xxxii.  73. 

IN  this  most  beautiful  canto  of  Purgatorio, 
Dante  describes  the  blossoming  of  the 
apple  tree  in  the  garden  of  the  Earthly  Paradise, 
and  the  wondrous  colour  of  the  tender  petals  of 
the  apple-blossom  against  the  sky. 

The  apple  tree  has  always  had  a  mystic  signi- 
ficance,— in  the  classics  its  fruit  is  regarded  as 
an  emblem  of  felicity,  and  the  attaining  of  the 
apple  a  symbol  of  bliss.  Juno  presents  Jupiter 
with  golden  apples  which  are  kept  in  the  gardens 
of  the  Hesperides,  and  guarded  by  a  dragon. 
To  Venus  the  apple  is  dedicated ;  there  is  the 
83 


APPLE-BLOSSOM 

fable  of  Atalanta  and  the  golden  apples  which  she 
stooped  to  pick  up,  and  thus  lost  her  race ;  and 
the  legend  of  the  fatal  apple  cast  by  Discordia 
into  the  council  of  the  gods,  which,  adjudged 
to  Venus,  caused  the  ruin  of  Troy. 

The  possession  of  the  apple  signifies  bliss  ;  the 
desire  and  struggle  for  it  cause  infinite  misfortune. 
And  so  in  sacred  lore  whence  these  ancient 
fables  take  their  origin,  the  apple — so  desirable 
a  fruit  in  itself — is  the  cause  of  the  loss  of 
Paradise. 

In  an  earlier  canto  of  Purgatorio,  Dante  speaks 
of  that  tree 

"...   by  which  Christ  was  led 
To  call  on  Eli,  joyful  when  He  paid 
Our  ransom  from  His  vein  .  .  .  "> 

The  tree  which  had  caused  our  first  parents  to 
sin,  and  thus  had  brought  a  curse  upon  their 
descendants,  which  Christ  expiated  upon  the 
cross. 

St.  Dorothea  is  always  represented  in  old  pic- 
tures with  a  basket  of  apples  and  roses  in  her 
hand,  and  this  on  account  of  the  legend,  which 
relates  that,  when  she  was  on  her  way  to  execu- 
tion, Theophilus,  a  lawyer,  scoffed  at  her,  saying, 
"When  you  reach   Paradise,  you  may  send  me 

1  Purg.  xxiii.  74. 
84 


APPLE-BLOSSOM 

some  of  the  fruits  and  flowers  which  you  say  you 
will  find  there." 

St.  Dorothea  replied,  "  I  will  do  as  you  desire, 
O  Theophilus."  She  immediately  knelt  down 
and  prayed,  and  a  beautiful  boy  appeared  beside 
her,  with  a  basket  in  his  hand  containing  three 
magnificent  roses,  more  exquisite  than  any  ever 
seen  on  earth,  and  three  large  apples.  Dorothea 
turned  to  him  and  said,  "Take  these  to  Theo- 
philus, and  tell  him  that  I  shall  await  him  in  the 
garden  of  Paradise,  where  these  flowers  and  fruits 
were  plucked." 

She  then  bent  her  neck  to  the  executioner, 
and  the  angel-boy  went  to  Theophilus  with  the 
message  and  the  present. 

Theophilus  was  overcome  with  wonder  and 
amazement.  He  tasted  the  apples,  and  touched 
the  heavenly  roses,  and  by  the  efficacy  of  the 
miracle,  becoming  converted  to  Christianity,  he 
also  obtained  the  crown  of  martyrdom,  and 
thus  followed  St.  Dorothea  to  the  celestial 
gardens. 

Dante's  description  of  the  apple  tree  in  the 
garden  of  Paradise  leads  us  once  more  to  his 
boyhood,  and  his  early  acquaintance  with  the 
child  Beatrice.  There  is  a  savour  of  this  sim- 
plicity of  childhood  in  the  words  he  utters,  when, 
awakened  from  his  trance,  and  looking  around  for 
85 


APPLE-BLOSSOM 

the  star  that  had  guided  him  so  far,  he  exclaims, 
"  Where  is  Beatrice  ?  " 

She  is  pointed  out  to  him  seated  on  the  root 
of  the  apple  tree,  "beneath  the  fresh  leaf,"  l  with 
the  "  associate  choir  "  of  angels  surrounding  her, 
and  the  air  full  of  melody  and  song. 

Surely  with  the  melody  of  the  birds  above  her 
and  the  song  of  spring  in  his  heart,  he  had  so 
seen  her  in  the  garden  of  his  innocence  and 
childhood,  while  the  fresh  apple-blossom  fell  and 
rested  upon  her  hair ! 

1  Purg.  xxxii.  86- 


86 


THE     MYRTLE 

"  A  myrtle  garland  to  enwreathe  my  brow. " 

"  Le  tempie  ornar  di  mirto." 

Purg.  xxi.  90. 

THE  myrtle  derives  its  name  from  Myrtilus, 
the  son  of  Mercury,  who  was  changed  into 
a  myrtle  bush  for  treachery  to  his  master. 

Myrtilus  served  Oenomaus  as  chariot-driver. 
Oenomaus,  proud  of  his  own  skill,  made  known 
that  he  would  give  his  beautiful  daughter,  Hip- 
podamia,  to  any  suitor  who  could  win  a  chariot- 
race  against  himself. 

The  treacherous  Myrtilus,  bribed  by  Pelops, 
who  had  entered  for  the  competition,  withdrew 
the  pin  from  his  master's  chariot-wheel.  Oeno- 
maus was  killed,  and  Pelops  obtained  the  hand 
of  the  fair  Hippodamia ;  but  to  avenge  this  act 
of  perfidy  he  threw  Myrtilus  into  the  sea.  The 
waves  refused  to  receive  the  body  of  the  traitor, 
87 


THE   MYRTLE 

and  cast  it  upon  the  shore,  where  it  was  changed 
into  a  bush,  that  ever  after  bore  the  name  of  the 
perfidious  Myrtilus. 

The  temple  of  Venus  at  Rome  was  surrounded 
by  a  myrtle  grove,  and  the  Greeks  adored  Venus 
under  the  title  of  Myrtila,  who,  when  she  arose 
from  the  waves,  was  presented  by  the  Hours  with 
a  scarf  of  many  colours  and  a  wreath  of  myrtle. 

The  myrtle  tree  is  considered  the  emblem  of 
immortality,  but  the  ancients  are  said  to  have 
regarded  its  berries  as  a  type  of  perfidy.  When 
other  trees  have  lost  their  foliage  in  the  frosts  of 
winter,  the  myrtle  remains  green,  to  remind  us 
that  life  may  yet  lie  hidden  in  the  lap  of  death. 

It  adorns  the  brow  of  the  poet,  as  a  type  of 
immortal  fame,  and  has  been  employed  by  some 
writers  as  an  emblem  of  Love,  since  where  it 
grows  it  excludes  all  other  plants. 

The  name  of  Poet, 

"That  name  most  lasting  and  most  honour'd," 
"Quel  nome  che  piu  dura,   e  piu  onora,"1 

was  Dante's  own.  Yet  he  only  mentions  the 
myrtle  once  in  his  Divina  Commedia,  and  then  it 
is  to  say  that  the  brow  of  the  poet  Statius  should 
have    been   adorned    with   it,    in   that   charming 

1  Purg.  xxi.  85. 

88 


THE   MYRTLE 

scene  where,  betrayed  by  the  lightning  of  a 
smile,  Virgil  makes  himself  known  to  his  fellow- 
poet,  and  Statius  attempts  to  embrace  him,  for- 
getting that  they  are  both  but  unsubstantial  shades. 

Dante's  thoughts  do  not  often  turn  to  the 
mythological  fables  of  the  myrtle  tree.  The  love 
he  bears  to  Beatrice — strong,  tender,  and  bitter — 
is  not  a  passion  to  play  with.  It  drives  him  from 
the  myths  of  heathen  tradition  to  the  reality 
of  his  deepest  religious  convictions.  We  never 
find  him  comparing  his  love  for  Beatrice  to  any 
affection  inspired  by  a  thought  of  Venus'  myrtle 
grove,  but  rather  to  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  the 
rose  of  Paradise. 

More  probable  is  it  that,  when  he  paused 
before  his  myrtle  tree,  his  thoughts  may  have 
recurred  to  the  legend  of  St.  Dominic,  to  whom 
he  so  often  alludes  in  the  course  of  his  poem,  and 
about  whom  there  is  a  charming  little  stoiy  con- 
nected with  the  myrtle. 

When  St.  Dominic  was  a  child,  his  nurse  gave 
him  a  myrtle  bush,  which  he  kept  in  an.  earth  en 
vase  on  the  floor  of  his  chamber,  and  treasured 
highly. 

Dante  tells  us  that   often    in  the  watches  of 
the   night  his  nurse  would   come    and    find   the 
little  Dominic  out  of  bed,  and   kneeling  at  his 
devotions  when  all  the  household  slept. 
89 


THE    MYRTLE 

One  night,  when  thus  engaged  in  prayer,  the 
thought  came  to  him  that  he  must  offer  up  his 
treasured  plant,  and  obey  the  words  of  his  Lord, 
who  said,  "Sell  that  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the 
poor." 

The  following  morning  Dominic  took  his  little 
plant  out  into  the  streets,  and  offered  it  to  many 
passers-by.  But  they  all  smiled  at  the  child,  and 
rejected  his  sacrifice.  At  length  a  lady,  clad  in 
a  dark-green  robe,  stopped  him,  and  asked  the 
price  of  the  flower. 

"  I  will  sell  it  for  a  warm,  thick  cloak  and  two 
pairs  of  shoes,"  said  the  little  Dominic.  "  Other- 
wise I  cannot  part  from  it." 

"  But  what  do  you  want  with  these  ?  "  said  the 
lady,  and  added,  "  Come  with  me,  and  I  will  show 
you  where  we  will  take  it." 

They  passed  through  many  streets,  and  at 
length  arrived  at  the  door  of  a  house,  where 
they  knocked,  and  a  feeble  voice  inside  bid  them 
enter.  By  the  window,  on  a  little  couch,  lay  a 
sick  child,  alone,  and  pale  with  suffering.  Her 
eyes  were  bright  and  beautiful,  and  were  fixed 
upon  a  dead  flower  in  a  broken  vase  by  her  bed- 
side. She  turned  them  as  her  visitors  entered, 
and  Dominic  saw  for  the  first  time  the  light  of 
approaching  heaven  in  the  eyes  of  a  child — the 
look  of  one  who  is  about  to  leave  the  earth,  and 
90 


THE    MYRTLE 

to  whom  earthly  things  have  become  of  small 
moment. 

He  approached  the  little  bed,  and,  bending 
over  her,  showed  her  the  plant. 

"  I  have  brought  you  a  flower/'  he  said,  smiling, 
to  her. 

The  child  looked  at  the  plant,  and  then  at  St. 
Dominic.  A  faint  flush  came  into  her  cheeks,  but 
she  said  nothing. 

"  It  is  the  plant  of  Immortality,"  he  continued, 
"  and  when  you  look  at  it  you  will  remember  that 
you  can  never  die.  When  you  grow  too  tired  to 
see  it  clearly,  the  angels  will  come  and  carry  you 
up  to  heaven  in  your  sleep,  where  many  myrtles 
bloom,  and  other  flowers." 

St.  Dominic  kissed  the  child,  and  went  out 
with  the  lady  into  the  street.  She  conducted 
him  back  the  way  they  had  come ;  but  no  sooner 
had  they  arrived  at  the  streets  and  squares  known 
to  him,  than  he  suddenly  found  himself  alone — 
his  strange  guide  had  disappeared,  and  he  went 
on  his  way  musing  deeply. 

That  night  the  little  Dominic  lay  awake,  and 
prayed  till  dawn. 


9* 


THE     FIR 

"...  And  as  a  fir 
Upward  from  bough  to  bough  less  ample  spreads." 

"  E  come  abete  in  alto  si  digrada 
Di  ramo  in  ramo  ..." 

Purg.  xxii.  133. 

THE  fir  tree  is  the  king  of  the  forest,  as  the 
birch  is  considered  the  queen.  Dante 
compares  a  tree  he  sees  during  his  journey  in 
Purgatory,  which  was  stately  and  "pleasant  to 
the  smell,"  to  a  fir  tree,  and  describes  a  stream 
flowing  near  it  to  have  been  of  "  liquid  crystal  " — 
thus  carrying  on  his  simile  by  conveying  the  mind 
of  the  reader  to  the  dry  rocky  soil  and  clean  sand 
of  the  high  places  where  firs  abound.  In  this 
vision  he  has  just  been  listening  to  the  conversa- 
tion of  the  two  poets  whom  he  most  admired, 
Virgil  and  Statius,  whose  speech  conveyed  to  his 
thoughts  "mysterious  lessons  of  sweet  poesy," 
92 


THE    FIR 

and  here  his  poetry  rises  to  a  high  pitch  of  grace 
and  eloquence  in  the  little  sermon  on  self-denial 
given  forth  by  the  stately  tree  whose  form  and 
fragrance  reminded  him  of  the  fir. 

Professor  de  Gubernatus  tells  a  story  of  a  fir 
tree  which  stood  by  itself  at  Tarssok  in  Russia, 
and  was  much  revered  by  the  country  people. 
Many  trees  growing  solitary  have  been  the  objects 
of  a  regard  almost  like  heathen  worship  amongst 
the  superstitious  and  uneducated,  and  this  fir  tree, 
which  had  withstood  storm  and  lightning  for 
several  hundred  years,  had  become  an  object  of 
great  reverence  to  the  Russian  peasants  living 
near  it.  At  length,  in  a  gale  of  wind,  it  fell,  and 
great  was  the  lamentation  of  the  neighbourhood. 
The  owner  of  the  soil  refused  to  make  any  profit 
from  its  trunk,  which  was  eventually  sold,  and  the 
money  given  to  the  Church. 

Gerade  writes  of  firs  growing  in  Cheshire 
"since  Noah's  flood,"  which  were  at  that  time 
"overturned,"  and  the  people  now  find  them 
beneath  the  soil,  and  in  marshy  places,  and  use 
them  for  fir-wood  or  fire-wood. 

The  resinous  fir,  like  the  pine,  with  its  fragrant 
smell  and  stately  form,  was  dear  to  the  soul  of  the 
poet,  and  Dante  alludes  to  it  with  the  tender 
touch  of  a  graceful  and  appreciative  fancy. 


93 


THE     NARCISSUS 

'The  mirror  of  Narcissus." 

"  Lo  specchio  di  Narcisso." 

Inferno,  XXX.  128. 

THE  narcissus  is  dedicated  to  the  vain  youth, 
beloved  by  Echo,  who  gazed  at  his  own 
image  in  the  fountain,  and  was  changed  into  the 
flower  that  bears  his  name — ever  after  to  bend 
over  the  mirror  in  self-contemplation.  The  cup 
in  the  centre  of  the  flower  contains  the  "  tears  of 
Narcissus,"  as  Virgil  remarks,  when  speaking  of 
the  bees  who  gather  their  honey  from  these  early 
spring  blossoms — 

"Some  placing  within  the  house  the  tears  of  Narcissus."1 

There  is  something  curiously  both  repellent  and 
attractive   about   this    flower.       Its    perfume    is 

1  Georgic,  iv. 
94 


THE    NARCISSUS 

powerful  and  narcotic,  but  after  the  first  short 
ecstasy  of  pleasure  it  soon  palls  upon  the  senses. 

The  narcissus  is  sujjposed  to  have  been  the 
flower  employed  by  Pluto  to  entice  Proserpine 
down  into  the  infernal  regions — 

•*,  .  .   In  that  season,  when  her  child 
The  Mother  lost ;  and  she,  the  bloomy  Spring." 

"...  Nel  tempo  che  perdette 
La  madre  lei,  ed  ella  primavera."1 

And  Sophocles  alludes  to  it  as  the  garland  of 
Proserpine. 

In  the  North  no  bride  may  wear  it  in  her  wed- 
ding wreath,  lest  she  bring  ill-luck  upon  the  first 
year  of  her  married  life. 

Yet  the  narcissus  appears  at  a  first  glance  one 
of  the  most  exquisite  of  flowers.  It  rises  from  the 
earth  in  the  early  summer,  and  the  purity  of  its 
delicate  white  petals  contrasting  with  the  deep 
red  slender  ring  in  the  centre,  its  wonderful  per- 
fume, and  the  grace  with  which  its  head  is  poised 
upon  a  slender  stem,  all  combine  to  produce  a 
sensation  of  wonder  and  admiration. 

Surely  it  might  dispute  the  palm  even  with  the 
lily.  Yet  it  has  seldom  been  able  to  excite  in  the 
breast  of  any  poets  sentiments  other  than  those 
of  a   purely   earthly  affection.     Its  name  never 

1  Purg.  xxviii.  50- 
95 


THE   NARCISSUS 

occurs  at  all  in  sacred  allegory ;  and  Dante,  who 
has  an  unfailing  perception  in  such  matters,  first 
alludes  to  it  in  his  Inferno,  where  he  makes  the 
wretched  soul  of  an  impostor,  who  is  railing  upon 
a  companion  in  misfortune,  exclaim — 

"...   No  urging  wouldst  thou  need 
To  make  thee  lap  Narcissus'  mirror  up  I  "  1 

And  in  the  Paradiso,  where  he  again  quotes  the 
fable,  he  only  uses  it  as  a  contrast,  saying  that  he 
is  seized  with  a  "  delusion  opposite  to  that  which 
raised  between  the  man  and  fountain  amorous 
flame  ! "  2  For  in  the  heaven  of  the  moon  where 
he  has  arrived,  the  images  he  sees  are  real,  not 
imaginary,  though  he  fell  into  the  error  of  mis- 
taking them  at  first  for  reflected  semblances. 
These  images  so  faintly  seen  by  Dante  are  the 
souls  of  those  who  had  been  compelled  on  earth 
to  violate  religious  vows,  and  Beatrice  says  of 
them,  "  Now  no  longer  will  their  feet  stray  from 
the  desires  of  purity  they  had  conceived  upon 
earth." 

In  the  legend  of  Proserpine,  who  was  enticed 
by  Pluto  into  the  Inferno,  we  are  told  that  the 
ravishing  perfume  of  the  narcissus  so  stupefied 
Ceres'  senses  that  she  did  not  perceive  her 
daughter's  danger;   and   the   narcotic   so   dulled 

1  Inf.  XXX.  128.  2  Par.  iii.  1 8. 

96 


THE    NARCISSUS 

the  senses  of  the  lovely  nymph  herself,  that,  laden 
with  armfuls  of  the  fateful  flower,  she  presented 
herself  at  the  very  gates  of  Dis. 

In  Sir  Frederic  Leighton's  picture,  where 
Proserpine  is  rescued  again  from  the  depths  of 
the  earth,  Ceres — as  Mother  Earth — stands  above, 
with  outstretched  arms,  to  welcome  her ;  and  Pro- 
serpine is  represented  as  coming  up  like  a  spring 
flower,  with  the  pale  tints  of  the  mauve  crocus, 
the  dainty  primrose,  and  the  white  narcissus  in 
her  floating  robes. 

Dante  knew  well  that  the  narcissus  belongs  of 
right  to  the  earth,  the  rose  and  lily  to  Paradise. 


97 


THE     BRIAR-ROSE 

"  Nel  giallo  della  rosa  sempiterna." 

Par.  xxx.  124. 

IN  Dante's  garden  are  roses  of  every  colour, 
red,  white,  and  yellow,  and  the  red  briar 
(Southern  sister  to  the  wild-rose  of  our  English 
country  hedges)  deserves  a  special  mention,  as 
Dante  is  the  only  poet  who  has  ever  accurately 
described  its  wonderfully  brilliant  gold  and  flame 
colour. 

When  Beatrice  first  appears  to  him,  after  his 
ascent  into  Purgatory,  he  describes  her  as — 

"  Vestita  di  color  di  fiamma  viva,"1 

clad  in  a  robe  the  colour  of  living  flame !  Can 
anyone  read  this  line  who  has  ever  seen  the 
blossom  of  the  Southern  briar-rose — with  its  pale 
gold   beneath    the    petals,   and   wondrous    flame 

1  Purg.  xxx.  33. 


THE   BRIAR-ROSE 

colour  above — without  a  vivid  picture  of  the  flower 
arising  at  once  in  his  mind's  eye  ? 

I  have  always  imagined  that  Beatrice  appears 
to  Dante  in  this  vision  clad  in  one  continuous 
petal  of  this  beautiful  flower.  The  scene  is  laid  in 
the  open  air,  under  a  roseate  sky.  Angelic  hands 
are  scattering  flowers  around  her.  Dante — who 
here  draws  his  similes  from  Nature — is  not  think- 
ing of  a  devouring  fire  in  the  colour  in  which  he 
arrays  her :  that  would  be  alien  to  the  whole 
picture.  He  is  thinking  of  a  flame-coloured  flower 
sheltered  in  green  foliage  ("  sotto  verde  manto  "\ 
such  as  he  may  often  have  seen  in  the  garden  of 
his  fancy. 

Certainly  colours  have  their  mystic  significance 
for  him, — red  for  Love,  and  green  for  Hope, — but 
in  this  vision  the  flowers  are  more  to  him  than 
their  colours.  He  clothes  Beatrice  in  the  very 
flower  that  to  him  represents  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
as  he  imagines  her  to  be  clothed  in  Divine  Love. 

The  Southern  briar-rose  should  at  least  have  a 
place  in  his  garden,  if  for  no  other  reason  than 
that  Dante  has  clad  his  Beatrice,  and  Nature  her 
queen  of  flowers,  for  one  occasion  and  in  one 
variety,  with  the  self-same  colour  of  living  flame. 


99 


THE     PALM 

"  For  that  he  beareth  palm 
Down  unto  Mary,  when  the  Son  of  God 
Vouchsafed  to  clothe  Him  in  terrestrial  weeds." 

"  Egli  e  quegli,  che  porto  la  palma 
Giu  a  Maria,  quando'l  Figliuol  di  Dio 
Carcar  si  voile  della  nostra  salma." 

Par.  xxxii.  1 12. 

"  For  the  cause 
That  one  brings  home  his  staff 
Enwreathed  with  palm." 

"...  Per  quello 
Che  si  reca  il  bordon  di  palma  cinto." 
Purg.  xxxiii.  77. 

SACRED    writers,    when   wishing   to   describe 
what  is  beautiful   and   full   of  dignity  and 
service,  have  continually  employed  the  palm  as  a 
typical  emblem  of  majesty  and  rectitude.     King 
David's  promise  to  the  just  is  that  he  shall  grow 
100 


THE   PALM 

up  and  flourish  as  a  young  palm  tree ;  and  as 
with  the  Jews,  so  in  the  Christian  Church,  it  was 
always  a  symbol  of  triumph.  At  the  feast  ol 
tabernacles  branches  of  palm  were  carried  in 
the  synagogues,  and  the  children  waved  it  on 
Christ's  triumphal  entrance  into  Jerusalem. 

So  whenever  Dante  employs  the  palm  it  is  as  an 
emblem  of  joy  and  grace.  The  Angel  Gabriel 
"beareth  palm  down  to  Mary,"  and  the  pilgrim 
returns  home  in  triumph  from  the  Holy  Land  with 
his  staff  enwreathed  with  palm. 

The  branches  of  palm  bi-ought  home  by  pil- 
grims from  Palestine  were  highly  treasured  by 
their  possessors,  and  were  supposed  to  be  safe- 
guards against  robbers,  diseases,  the  evil  eye,  and 
all  the  many  ills  flesh  was  more  specially  heir  to 
in  the  turbulent  Middle  Ages. 

A  palmer  from  Palestine,  on  his  way  back  to 
Italy,  spent  the  night  with  other  pilgrims  at  a 
small  hostel  in  the  plains,  beneath  the  glorious 
Alps,  which  he  had  just,  at  imminent  risk  of 
life,  surmounted  with  his  companions. 

He  was  worn  to  a  shadow,  his  garb  tattered 
and  travel-stained,  but  the  light  of  triumph  and 
achievement  illumined  his  countenance. 

On  awakening  in  the  morning  after  their  first 
night  in  the  fruitful  plains  of  their  native  land, 
a  report  reached  the  pilgrim  troupe  that  fever,  in 
101 


THE   PALM 

a  specially  virulent  form,  had  broken  out  in  an 
adjoining  village.  The  pilgrims  hurriedly  broke 
up  their  camp  and  started  southwards,  to  reach 
their  homes  by  different  routes ;  but  the  aged 
palmer  inquired  of  their  informant  if  there  was 
any  priest  to  give  aid  and  consolation  to  the 
dying  in  the  distressed  village,  or  any  Christian 
man  to  nurse  and  attend  on  them. 

On  hearing  that  two  friars  of  the  order  of  St. 
Francis,  who  had  come  to  their  assistance,  had 
themselves  succumbed  to  the  disease,  the  palmer 
took  his  staff  and  hurried  instantly  to  the  scene 
of  action.  Here  he  diligently  nursed  the  infected 
cases ;  but  in  every  instance,  on  entering  a  house, 
his  first  action  was  to  wave  his  treasured  palm 
branch  over  the  heads  of  all  the  inmates  not  yet 
infected  with  the  disease,  who  in  no  instance, 
after  this  ceremony,  were  attacked  by  it. 

The  sick  kissed  it  and  were  speedily  healed, 
and  on  the  cessation  of  the  fever  in  the  village  a 
public  thanksgiving  was  offered  to  God  for  the 
benefits  wrought  through  His  faithful  pilgrim 
servant,  by  the  branch  of  the  sacred  palm  brought 
with  so  many  hardships  and  sufferings  from  the 
Holy  Land. 

This  legend  is  only  one  out  of  many  with  which 
Dante  may  have  been  acquainted,  and  which 
may  have  helped  to  clothe  the  palm  in  his  mind 


THE   PALM 

with  all  the  joyous  attributes  he  associates  with  it. 
In  another  stoiy  of  the  twelfth  century,  brigands 
are  supposed  to  have  fallen  prostrate  around  a 
band  of  noble  pilgrims  they  had  attacked,  at  the 
sight  of  the  holy  branches  from  the  East,  and 
on  kissing  the  palms  with  reverence,  this  further 
act  of  grace  induced  them  to  give  up  their  lawless 
lives  and  return  to  peaceable  citizenship. 

Beatrice  in  speaking  to  Dante,  when  she  is 
conducting  him  through  the  latter  part  of  Pur- 
gatory towards  Paradise,  tells  him  that  since  his 
understanding  is  still  hardened  by  contact  with 
the  world,  and  he  is  too  dazzled  by  the  mysteries 
she  is  revealing  to  him  to  understand  them  fully 
as  yet,  he  must  try  and  carry  back  with  him  to 
earth  the  imprint  of  her  words  upon  his  mind, 
to  prove  where  he  has  been,  as  the  pilgrim  carries 
home  the  sacred  trophy  of  the  palm  enwreathed 
around  his  staff. 


103 


THE     VINE 

M  E'en  thou  went'st  forth  in  poverty  and  hunger 
To  set  the  goodly  plant,  that  from  the  Vine 
It  once  was,  now  is  grown  unsightly  bramble.'' 

"  Che  tu  entrasti  povero  e  digiuno 
In  campo  a  seminar  la  buona  pianta, 
Che  fu  gia  vite,  ed  ora  e  fatta  pruno." 

Par.  xxiv.  109. 

IN  the  lines  quoted  above,  Dante  speaks  to  St. 
Peter,  whom  he  encounters  in  Paradise,  about 
that "  goodly  plant "  the  Church,  which  was  started 
in  poverty  and  hunger,  and  "  from  the  Vine  it  once 
was,"  had  become  so  full  of  corruptions.  St. 
Peter  is  examining  him  on  the  subject  of  faith, 
and  Dante,  well  versed  in  the  tenets  of  the  Church, 
seems  to  pass  through  this  trying  ordeal  with 
satisfaction. 

The  vine  that  grows  in  his  garden  is  a  wondrous 
and  mystic  plant.     It  is  the  very  incarnation  of 
the  Christian  faith,  the  emblem  of  Christ  Himself, 
104 


THE    VINE 

and  the  boughs  and  leaves  and  tendrils  are  the 
grafted  body  of  the  faithful. 
Dante  says  that  St.  Dominic 

"...  did  set  himself 
To  go  about  the  vineyard  .   .  .  " 1 

that  is,  to  work  hi  Christ's  garden,  and  the  vine  is 
continually  used  by  him  as  a  type  of  the  Christian 
Church. 

For  legend  or  story  connected  with  it  we  must 
refer  to  biblical  lore.  In  the  New  Testament  it  is 
more  frequently  mentioned  than  any  other  plant, 
and  it  is  from  thence  that  Dante  would  have 
drawn  most  of  his  ideas  and  similes.  In  Italy 
the  people  have  a  superstitious  reverence  for  a 
vine,  and  consider  that  in  its  shelter  no  harm 
or  danger  can  affect  them.  A  little  child  has 
been  seen  to  run  and  hold  up  its  arms  to  the 
shelter  of  a  drooping  vine  when  pursued  by  a 
companion,  and  in  playful  fear.  The  pursuer 
might  not  follow  with  harmful  intent  to  the 
shelter  of  the  vine,  though  when  outside  again 
the  romp  was  renewed.  The  peasant  mother 
standing  by  remarked  that  this  was  "  a  sacred 
tree,"  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  when 
alluding  to  it.  In  Lombardy  the  peasants  make 
small  crosses  of  the  wood  of  the  vine,  and  hold 

1  Par.  xii.  86. 

ICS 


THE    VINE 

them  in  special  reverence.  The  bacchanalian 
rites  of  old,  with  wild  ceremonies  and  mad  in- 
toxication, have  given  place  to  Christian  teaching, 
and  even  the  vine  has  become  the  symbol  of 
self-restraint,  and  is  made  into  an  emblem  of 
suffering  and  renunciation,  as  the  will  rolls  onward 
towards  better  things,  "  by  love  impelled." 


1 06 


THE 
STAR     OF     BETHLEHEM 

"  And  Truth  was  manifested  as  a  star  in  heaven." 

"  E  come  stella  in  cielo,  il  ver  si  vide." 

Par.  xxviii.  87. 

THE  star  of  Bethlehem — beloved  and  trea- 
sured flower  in  thousands  of  our  cottage 
gardens — is  well  known  by  all  the  countiy-folk  to 
be  the  lineal  descendant  of  that  star  which  once 
appeared  in  the  East,  to  proclaim  in  the  birth 
of  the  Saviour  the  greatest  Truth  that  earth  has 
ever  known. 

The  mysterious  appearance  and  disappearance 
of  this  star  has  given  rise  to  poetical  legends 
without  end. 

Some  say  that  it  fled  away  like  a  meteor  into 
space,  to  reappear  at  the  second  coming  of  Christ ; 
107 


THE   STAR    OF   BETHLEHEM 

and  some,  that  it  sank  to  the  earth  and  burst 
into  constellations  of  myriads  of  white  starry 
flowers  around  the  stable  door  where  the  infant 
Saviour  lay.  It  is  hoi'ological,  never  unfolding 
its  petals  before  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  is  very  abundant  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Samaria. 

Each  blossom  is  encircled  with  leaves  of  a 
dazzling  whiteness,  and  the  flower  has  always 
borne  the  name  of  the  "  Star  of  Bethlehem." 

"  In  the  morning,"  saith  the  legend,  "  Joseph, 
the  foster-father  of  the  fair  Babe,  went  forth 
in  the  yet  flickering  dawn  to  meditate  upon 
his  wondrous  visions  of  the  night.  At  his  feet 
— as  if  planted  by  angel  hands — the  starry 
splendour  of  a  hundred  white  blossoms  blazed 
forth. 

"The  star,  also,  had  come  to  earth,  unable 
to  remain  in  the  spangled  glory  of  the  sky, 
when  its  Creator  lay  humbled  as  a  human  babe 
beneath. 

"  St.  Joseph  gathered  the  flowers  and  brought 
them  in  to  the  Blessed  Virgin.  '  Behold,'  he 
said,  '  the  Star  from  the  East  hath  fallen  and 
multiplied  before  Him  ! '  " 

Reared  from  his  boyhood  in  the  devout  and 
poetical  imageiy  of  ancient  Church  tradition, 
stories  such  as  these  must  often  have  passed 
10S 


THE    STAR    OF   BETHLEHEM 

through  the  mind  of  Dante  when  he  walked 
in  the  fair  garden  of  his  childhood,  before  his 
feet  had  strayed  into  the  dark  forest  of  maturer 
life. 

No  poet  has  ever  loved  the  stars  more  than 
Dante — the  stars  for  which  Beatrice  so  soon 
forsook  this  lower  life. 

Each  of  the  three  great  divisions  of  his  Divina 
Commedia  ends  with  a  reference  to  the  stars.  The 
last  word  of  the  Inferno,  Purgatorio,  and  Para- 
diso  is  "stelle." 

He  speaks  of  the  "  morning  star," l  of  the 
stars,  those  " glorious  and  thick-studded  gems"2 
that  like  costly  jewels  inlay  the  sky,  and 
of  Truth  that  was  "manifested  as  a  star  in 
heaven."  3 

When  he  has  reached  the  empyrean,  and  sees 
the  souls  of  the  blest  adoring  in  the  actual  pre- 
sence of  God,  he  exclaims — 

"  .  .  .  O  trinal  beam 
Of  individual  Star,  that  charm'st  them  thus, 
Vouchsafe  one  glance  to  gild  our  storm  below  ! " 

"  O,  trina  luce  1     Che  in  unica  Stella 
Scintillando  a  lor  vista  si  gli  appaga, 
Guarda  quaggiu,  alia  nostra  procella  !  "  4 

1  Par.  xxxii.  108.  2  Par.  xviii.   115. 

3  Par.    xxviii.  87.  4  Par.  xxxi.  28. 

I09 


THE   STAR   OF   BETHLEHEM 

The  birth  of  the  Saviour  is  also  a  subject  upon 
which  Dante  loves  to  linger.     He  says — 

"  We  stood,  immovably  suspended  ;  like  to  those, 
The  shepherds,  who  first  heard  in  Bethlehem's  field 
That  song  ;  till  ceased  the  trembling,  and  the  song 
Was  ended  ..." 

"  Noi  stavamo  immobili  e  sospesi, 

Come  i  pastor  che  prima  udir  quel  canto, 
Fin  che  il  tremar  cesso,  ed  ei  compiesi."1 

1  Purg.  xx.  139. 


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